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PIETY 


WITHOUT  ASCETICISM, 


THE  PROTESTANT  KEMPIS. 


BY  JOHN  JEBB,  D.  D.,  F.  R.  S. 

Bishop  of  Limeric,  Ardfert  andAghadoe. 


N E W - Y O R K ; 

HENRY  M.  ONDERDONK  & CO.,  25  JOHN  ST. 


1846. 


-JzS) 


f3^2.  p 


J^arfsl)  anti  l^eUfii'ous  jFamil^  Urotar^,  VqV  X» 


PIETY  WITHOUT  ASCETICISM, 

OK 

THE  PROTESTANT  KEMPIS; 

A 

MANUAL 

OF 

CHRISTIAN  FAITH  AND  PRACTICE, 

.SELECTED  FROM 

THE  WRITJPfGS 

OP 

SCOUGAL,  CHARLES  HOW,  AND  C U D W O R T II  ; 

WITH  COKRECTIOiS'S,  AND  OCCASIONAL  NOTES. 


BY  JOHN  JEBB,  D.  D.,  F.  R.  S. 

Bishop  of  liimcrick,  Ardferl,  and  Aghadoe. 


■X 


PREFACE. 


It  has  been  long  thought  desirable  by  the  Editor, 
that  the  ‘Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  Man,’  with  some 
of  the  ‘Discourses  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Scougal the 
‘ Meditations  of  the  Hon.  Charles  How and  two 
Sermons  of  the  great  Cudworth,  usually  annexed  to  his 
Intellectual  System, — should  re-appear  together,  in  a 
handsome  volume.  Conjointly,  they  seemed  likely  to 
do  a service,  for  which,  in  their  separate  form,  they 
were  less  perfectly  adapted  : presenting,  as  they  do 
when  taken  together,  a complete  and  harmonious 
scheme  of  practical  religion.  While,  by  the  recom- 
mendation of  an  attractive  appearance*,  they  might, 
possibly,  engage  the  attention  of  a class  of  readers, 
hitherto  unacquainted  with  their  very  existence.  Into 
these  views,  the  respectable  and  spirited  publishers 
cordially  entered  ; and  it  is  hoped  that  the  present 
undertaking  may  be  so  far  successful,  as  at  once  to  re- 
munerate their  liberality,  and  to  afford  the  public  a spe- 
cimen of  Christian  instruction,  not  only  unexceptiona- 
ble in  its  nature,  but  uniformly  tending  to  edification  of 
the  best  kind. 

It  must,  indeed,  be  admitted,  that  in  the  present  day, 
there  is  no  deficiency  of  religious  publications  ; several 
excellent  in  their  kind.  But  it  cannot  be  denied,  that 
many  offend  against  good  taste  ; and,  what  is  of  far 

* The  English  Edition  of  which  the  |)resent  is  a mere  re-print,  was 
published  in  a beautiful  octavo  volume, — a style  which  the  design  of 
the  Parish  Library,  forbids  our  imitating. 


4 


PREFACE. 


graver  consequence,  that  many  give  erroneous  and  dis- 
torted views  of  the  Gospel  System.  With  either  of 
these  defects,  the  works  which  form  this  compilation 
do  not,  in  any  degree,  seem  chargeable.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  may  truly  be  affirmed,  that  they  are  written 
with  great  purity  and  elegance  of  manner,  and  that  they 
present,  to  all  capable  minds,  the  very  ‘ pith  and  ker- 
nel’ of  inward  practical  Christianity. 

The  writings  of  Scougal  and  How,  in  particular,  fre- 
quently remind  one  of  the  ‘ Imitation’  of  Thomas  a 
Kempis ; but  they  are  wholly  free  from  that  ascetic 
gloom,  which,  more  or  less,  disfigures  all  Roman  Catho- 
lic piety.  In  depth  and  inferiority  of  religion  indeed, 
they  cannot  readily  be  excelled  or  equalled  ; but  they 
uniformly  breathe  the  sober  cheerfulness  of  the  Divine 
Author  of  Christianity  ; and  remind  us*  of  his  hea  venly 
injunction,  that,  whatever  be  our  inward  feelings,  we 
should  “anoint  our  head,  and  wash  our  face,  and  ap- 
pear not  unto  men  to  fast.” 

By  our  relish  for  books  of  this  nature,  we  may,  per- 
haps, best  form  a judgment  of  our  spiritual  state.  And 
happy  shall  we  be,  if  we  feel  ourselves  gradually  formed 
to  that  purity,  humility,  and  love  of  God  and  man,  which 
they  always  recommend  and  exemplify. 

It  may  be  satisfactory,  to  add  a few  words  concern- 
ing the  respective  Authors. 

The  Rev.  Henry  Scougal,  A.  M.,  second  son  of 
the  Right  Rev.  Patrick  Scougal,  Bishop  of  Aber- 
deen, was  born  at  Saltoun,  in  East  Lothian,  in  the  year 
1650.  From  his  earliest  years,  he  was  devoted,  not 
less  by  his  own  choice,  than  by  his  father’s  piety,  to 
the  service  of  the  ministry  ; and  it  is  remarkable,  that, 
almost  from  infancy,  he  took  special  delight  in  devo- 
tional retirement,  in  the  study  of  the  best  books,  and  in 
the  conversation  of  wise  and  good  men  ; while  his  very 


PREFACE. 


5 


amusements  indicated  the  greatness  and  energy  of  his 
mind  ; for,  together  with  the  most  ingenious  of  his 
youthful  associates,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  composing 
little  orations,  and  delivering  them  in  the  personated 
character  of  some  distinguished  Roman  Senator.* *  At 
the  University,  he  made  a singular  proficiency  in  clas- 
sical and  mathematical  learning;  but  it  was  his  chief 
delight  to  acquire  just  apprehensions  of  God  and  reli- 
gion ; and  he  fixed  his  notions  deeply  and  permanently, 
by  the  composition  of  pious  meditations,  remarkable  at 
once  for  exactness  and  eloquence.  lie  was  educated 
at  the  University  of  Aberdeen;  where,  at  twenty  years 
of  age,  he  became  Professor  of  Philosophy,  and  was 
the  happy  instrument  of  training  multitudes  to  follow 
in  his  steps.  On  taking  orders,  he  accepted  the  coun- 
try parish  of  Auchterless  j and  there,  by  unwearied  di- 
ligence in  catechizing,  preaching,  and  instructing  from 
house  to  house,  he  gave  full  proof  that  the  ministry 
was,  indeed,  his  vocation.  But  he  was  soon  called  to 
a more  important  sphere.  In  1675,  by  the  unanimous 
voice  of  the  electors,  he  was  chosen  Professor  of  Divin- 
ity in  King’s  College,  Aberdeen  ; from  whence,  in  the 
midst  of  a full  career  of  usefulness,  he  was  mysterious- 
ly, but,  no  doubt,  mercifully,  removed  to  a better  world, 
in  the  year  1678,  at  the  early  age  of  eight  and  twenty. 

‘ Being  made  perfect  in  a short  time,  he  fulfilled  a long 
time  : for  wisdom  is  the  grey  hair  unto  men,  and  an  un- 
spotted life  is  old  age.’* 

From  numerous  testimonies  to  Scougal’s  chief  work, 
it  seems  sufficient  to  extract  that  of  Bishop  Burnet, 

* A similar  circumstance  is  related  of  Sir  William  Jones.  See  his 
Life,  by  Lord  Teignmouth  ; and  Dr.  Johnstone’s  iMemoirs  of  Dr. 
Parr. 

* The  profoundly  learned  and  pious  John  Smith,  of  Cambridge, 
died  also  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-Hve.  See  his  select  discourses  ia 
the  last  edition,  which  is  incomi)arably  the  best.  It  was  published  in 
1821,  by  Messrs.  Rivingtoiis  and  Cochran,  Strand. 

1* 


6 


PREFACE. 


‘ that  the  book  was  a transcript  of  the  divine  impressions 
on  his  own  heart;  and  that  he  had  written  nothing  in  it, 
which  he  did  not  himself  w^ell  know  and  feel.’ 

Of  the  Hon.  Charles  How,  less  is  knowm  than 
might  have  been  desired.  He  seems  to  have  held  the 
noiseless  tenor  of  his  way,  in  the  exercise  of  an  unob- 
trusive benevolence,  and  in  the  cultivation  of  his  own 
heart. 

His  ‘Meditations’  w^ere  intended  merely  for  his  pri- 
vate use  ; and,  during  his  long  life,  no  human  eye  saw 
them,  but  his  own.  After  his  death^  how^ever,  they 
came,  into  the  possession  of  his  granddaughter  ; and, 
with  her  permission,  were  made  public  by  her  husband, 
Mr.  George  Mac  Aulay ; but,  in  the  first  instance, 
without  the  Author’s  name.  To  the  Second  Edition 
this  w'as  prefixed,  at  the  earnest  suggestion  of  several 
good  literary  judges  : among  the  rest,  of  Doctor  Young, 
author  of  the  Night  Thoughts  ; whose  testimony  to  the 
work  should  by  no  means  be  omitted.  ‘ The  book  of 
Meditations,’  says  this  eminent  man,  ‘ I have  read,  more 
than  once  ; and  I shall  never  lay  it  far  out  of  my  reach: 
for  a greater  demonstration  of  a sound  head,  and  a 
sincere  heart,  I never  saw.’ 

Mr.  How  was  a gentleman  of  good  fortune,  and  of  a 
family  ennobled  in  several  of  its  branches.  He  was 
himself  a native  of  Gloucestershire,  but  the  stock  origin- 
ally came  from  the  county  of  Nottingham.  His  birth 
took  place  in  the  year  1661  ; and  during  the  latter  end 
of  the  reign  of  Charles  IL,  he  was  much  about  the 
Court.*  In  1686,  he  went  abroad  in  an  official  situation, 
in  the  suite  of  a near  relative,  ambassador  to  a foreign 
Court.  And,  his  friend  suddenly  dying,  he  completed, 
by  powers  specially  intrusted  to  him,  the  business  of 
the  embassy;  with  such  reputation,  that  he  had  an  offer 
of  the  full  and  permanent  appointment  to  the  diplo- 


PREFACE. 


7 


matic  office.  This,  however,  from  a dislike  of  the 
measures  then  pursued  at  court,  he  thought  proper  to 
decline  ; and  immediately  returned  to  England.  Soon 
after,  he  married  a lady  of  rank  and  fortune  ; who, 
dying  in  a few  years,  left  behind  her  an  only  daughter, 
frequently  mentioned  in  the  Meditations.  From  this 
period,  he  lived,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  country ; and 
spent  many  of  his  latter  years  in  close  retirement,  con- 
secrating his  time  to  religious  exercise  and  meditations. 
His  conduct  was  exemplary,  his  conversation  cheerful, 
and  his  death  peaceful  and  serene.  He  reached  the 
extraordinary  term  of  eighty-four  years  ; ’when  he  ex- 
changed the  hap'piness  of  a virtuous  and  a good  old 
age,  for  the  greater,  but  congenial  happiness,  of  a blessed 
immortality,  A.  D.  1745. 

Of  the  excellent  Cudworth,  it  were  superfluous  to 
speak  in  detail ; the  reputation  of  such  men  is  the  glory 
of  our  country.  His  writings,  especially  the  Intellect- 
ual System,  are  known  and  prized  by  the  learned 
throughout  Europe  ; and  will  continue  to  be  so,  ’while 
piety  and  erudition  are  accounted  valuable  among  men. 
His  first  sermon,  given  in  this  collection,  was  preached 
before  the  House  of  Commons,  in  the  year  1647;  and, 
with  singular  boldness  and  intrepidity,  was  directed 
point  blank,  and  without  compromise  or  qualification, 
againt  the  epidemic  evil  of  the  times.  In  the  present 
day,  it  were  most  desirable,  that  the  mantle  of  Cud- 
worth  might  descend  upon  some  true  son  of  the  Church 
of  England.  He  was  born  A.  D.  1617,  and  died  in  the 
memorable  year  1688. 

The  Editor  will  only  add,  that  he  has  sometimes 
slightly  modified  the  phraseology,  where  it  seemed 
likely  that  ordinary  readers  might  be  checked,  by  the 
occurrence  of  an  unusual,  an  antiquated,  or  an  unper- 
spicuous  word.  If  he  were  republishing  these  tracts, 


8 


PREFACE. 


as  works  of  their  respective  Authors,  it  might,  indeed, 
be  proper  to  adhere,  even  to  their  errors,  with  scru- 
pulous fidelity.  But,  in  a practical  and  devotional  ma- 
nual, (and  for  such  especially,  this  compilation  is  intend- 
ed,) it  seemed  the  first  duty,  to  take  care  that  no  slight 
obscurity,  no  awkwardness  of  expression,  should  be 
allowed  to  mar  the  general  effect ; whilst,  at  the  same 
time,  the  sense,  spirit,  and  peculiar  vein  of  thought,  of 
each  writer,  should  be  carefully  preserved.  He  now 
concludes  with  an  earnest  wish,  that  these  treatises  may 
have,  at  least,  a portion  of  the  beneficial  result,  which 
they  are  eminently  calculated  to  produce. 

John  Limerick. 


Leamington,  September  27,  1830. 


CONTENTS. 


Scougal’s  Nature  and  Excellency  op  the  Christian  Re- 
ligion; OR,  THE  Life  of  God,  in  the  Soul  of  Man.  - page  lo 


Discourses  on  Important  Subjects,  by  Henry  Scougal,  A.  M. 

II. 

Sermon  \.—^The  Superior  Excellency  of  the  Religions. 
Proverbs,  xii.  26. 

The  righteous  is  more  excellent  than  his  neighbor.  - - 76 

III. 

Sermon  II. — The  Indispensable  Duty  of  Loving  our  Enemies. 
St.  Luke,  vi.  27. 

But  I say  unto  you  which  hear.  Love  your  enemies.  - - 93 

IV. 

Sermon  HI. — The  Necessity  and  Advantage  of  Early  Afflictions. 
Lament,  hi.  27,  28. 

It  is  good  for  a man,  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth.  He 
sitteth  alone  and  keepeth  silence,  because  he  has  borne  it  upon 
him.  ill 


V. 

Sermon  IV. — Thai  there  are  hut  a Small  Number  Saved. 

St.  Luke,  xiii.  23. 

Then  said  one  unto  him,  Lord,  are  there  a few  that  be  saved  1 129 


10 


CONTENTS. 


VI. 

Sermon  V. — The  Duty  and  Pleasure  of  Praise  and  Thanksgiving , 
Psalm  cvii.  15. 

O that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness  ; and  for 
his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men.  - - - page  146 

VII. 

Sermon  VI. — The  Importance  and  Dificulty  of  the  Ministerial 
Function, 

(Preached  before  the  Synod  of  Aberdeen.) 

2 Cor.  ii.  16. 

Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  7 160 


VIII. 


How’s  Devout  Meditations.  - 183 


Two  Sermons,  by  Ralph  Cudworth,  D.  D. 

IX. 

Sermon  I. — They  Know  Christy  who  Keep  His  Commandments. 

1 John  ii.  3,  4. 

And  hereby  we  do  know,  that  we  know  him,  if  we  keep  his  com- 
mandments : he  that  saith,  I know  him,  and  keepeth  not  his  com- 
mandments, is  a liar,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  him.  - - - 283 


X. 

Sermon  II. — The  Christianas  Victory^  over  Sin^  the  Law,  and 
Death. 

1 Cor.  XV.  57. 

But  thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory,  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 


326 


THE 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  OF  THE 

CHRISTIAN  RELIGION ; 

OR, 

THE  LIFE  OP  GOD  IN  THE  SOUL  OF  MAN  ; 

WITH 

SIX  OTHER  DISCOURSES 

ON  IMPORTANT  SUBJECTS, 

✓ 

BY  THE  REVEREND  HENRY  SCOUGAL,  A.  M. 


‘ Perfectionis  ac’felicitatis  summum  est  uniri  Deo.’ 


‘ Let  not  the  word  heaven  be  in  our  mouths  only;  let  it  be  in  our  hearts. 
Let  us  do  the  will  of  God  on  earth  as  it  is  done  in  heaven  ; and  then  we  shall 
make  it  appear,  that  the  kingdom  of  God  is  come,  that  it  is  come  into  us. 

‘ Christians  then  live  as  such,  when  their  life  approaches  nearer  to  the  life 
of  angels,  and  blessed  saints ; when  a life  of  purity  and  holiness,  a life  of  entire 
resignation  and  obedience  to  the  divine  will,  is  their  natiire  and  element,  their 
choice  and  delight.’ — Dr.  John  Worthington. 


THE 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY 

OP 

THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 


PART  I. 


THE  OCCASION  OF  THIS  DISCOURSE. 

My  dear  Friend, — This  designation  gives  you  a 
title  to  all  the  endeavors  whereby  I can  serve  your 
interests ; and  your  pious  inclinations  so  happily  con- 
spire with  my  duty,  that  I need  not  step  out  of  my  road 
to  gratify  you.  I may,  at  once,  perform  an  office  of 
friendship,  and  discharge  an  exercise  of  my  function ; 
since  the  advancing  of  virtue  and  holiness  (which  I 
hope  you  make  your  greatest  study)  is  the  peculiar 
business  of  my  employment.  This,  therefore,  is  the 
most  proper  instance  wherein  I can  vent  my  affection, 
and  express  my  gratitude  towards  you  ; and  I shall  not 
any  longer  delay  the  performance  of  the  promise  I 
made  you,  to  this  purpose.  For,  though  I know  that 
you  are  provided  with  better  helps  of  this  nature  than 
any  I can  offer ; and  that  you  are  not  likely  to  meet 
with  any  thing  here,  which  you  knew  not  before  ; yet 
I am  hopeful,  that  what  comes  from  one  whom  you  are 
pleased  to  honor  with  your  friendship,  and  which  is 
more  particularly  designed  for  your  use,  will  be  kindly 
accepted  by  you ; and  God’s  providence,  perhaps,  may 
so  direct  my  thoughts,  that  something  or  other  may 
prove  useful  to  you.  Nor  shall  I doubt  your  pardon,  if, 
in  order  to  mould  my  discourse  into  the  better  frame,  I 
lay  a low  foundation,  beginning  with  the  nature  and 
properties  of  religion  ; and  all  along  give  such  way  to 
my  thoughts,  in  the  prosecution  of  the  subject,  as  may 
bring  me  to  say  many  things  which  were  not  necessary, 
did  I only  consider  to  whom  I am  writing. 


14 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 


MISTAKES  ABOUT  RELIGION. 

I cannot  speak  of  religion  without  lamenting  that, 
among  so  many  pretenders  to  it,  so  few  understand 
what  it  means.  Some  place  it  in  the  understanding — in 
orthodox  notions  and  opinions  : and  all  the  account 
they  can  give  of  their  religion,  is,  that  they  are  of  this 
or  the  other  persuasion,  and  have  joined  themselves  to 
one  of  those  many  sects,  into  which  Christendom  is 
most  unhappily  divided.  Others  place  it  in  the  outward 
man — in  a constant  course  of  external  duties  : if  they 
live  peaceably  with  their  neighbors,  keep  a temperate 
diet,  observe  the  returns  of  worship,  frequent  the 
church,  or  their  closet,  and  sometimes  extend  their 
hands  to  the  relief  of  the  poor,  they  think  they  have 
sufficiently  acquitted  themselves.  Others,  again,  place 
all  religion  in  the  affections — in  rapturous  heats  and 
ecstatic  devotion  : and  all  they  aim  at,  is,  to  pray  with 
passion,  to  think  of  heaven  with  pleasure,  and  to  be 
affected  with  those  kind  and  melting  expressions  where- 
with they  court  their  Saviour  ; till  they  persuade  them- 
selves that  they  are  mightily  in  love  with  him,  and, 
from  thence,  assume  a great  confidence  of  their  sal- 
vation, which  confidence,  they  esteem  the  chief  of 
Christian  graces.  Thus,  are  those  things  which  have 
any  semblance  of  piety,  and  which,  at  the  best,  are  but 
means  of  obtaining  it,  or  particular  exercises  of  it, 
frequently  mistaken  for  the  whole  of  religion  ; nay, 
sometimes  wickedness  and  vice  pretend  to  that  name. 
I speak  not  now  of  those  gross  impieties,  wherewith 
the  Heathen  were  wont  to  worship  their  gods  : there 
are  but  too  many  Christians,  who  would  consecrate 
their  vices,  and  hallow  their  corrupt  affections  ; whose 
rugged  humor  and  sullen  pride,  must  pass  for  Christian 
severity ; whose  fierce  wrath  and  bitter  rage  against 
their  enemies,  must  be  called  holy  zeal ; whose  petu- 
lancy  towards  their  superiors,  or  rebellion  against  their 
governors,  must  have  the  name  of  Christian  courage 
and  resolution. 


WHAT  RELIGION  IS. 

But,  certainly,  religion  is  quite  another  thing : and 
they  who  are  acquainted  with  it,  will  entertain  far 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  15 

different  thoughts,  and  disdain  all  those  shadows  and 
false  imitations  of  it.  They  know  by  experience,  that 
true  religion  is  a union  of  the  soul  with  God,  a real 
participation  of  the  divine  nature,  the  very  image  of 
God  drawn  upon  the  soul ; or  in  the  apostle’s  phrase, 
it  is  Christ  formed  loithin  us.  Briefly,  I know  not 
how  the  nature  of  religion  can  be  more  fully  expressed, 
than  by  calling  it  a divine  life.^  And  under  these- terms 
I shall  discourse  of  it : showing,  first,  how  it  is  called  a 
life ; and  then,  how  it  is  termed  divine. 

ITS  PERMANENCY  AND  STABILITY. 

I choose  to  express  it  by  the  name  of  life : first,  be- 
cause of  its  permanency  and  stability.  Religion  is  not 
a sudden  start,  or  passion  of  the  mind  ; not  though  it 
should  rise  to  the  height  of  a rapture,  and  seem  to 
transport  a man  to  extraordinary  performances.  There 
are  few  who  have  not  convictions  of  the  necessity  of 
doing  something  for  the  salvation  of  their  souls,  which 
may  push  them  forward  some  steps,  with  a great  deal 
of  seeming  haste.  But  anon  they  flag  and  give  over : 
they  were  in  a hot  mood,  but  now  they  are  cooled ; 
they  did  shoot  forth  fresh  and  high,  but  are  quickly 
withered, — because  they  had  no  root  in  themselves. 
These  sudden  fits  may  be  compared  to  the  violent  and 
convulsive  motions  of  bodies  newly  beheaded,  caused 
by  the  agitations  of  the  animal  spirits,  after  the  soul  is 
departed ; which,  however  violent  and  impetuous,  can 
be  of  no  long  continuance  : whereas  the  motions  of 
holy  souls  are  constant  and  regular,  proceeding  from  a 
permanent  and  lively  principle.  It  is  true,  this  divine 
life  continues  not  always  in  the  same  strength  and 
vigor ; it  many  times  suffers  sad  decays  ; and  holy 
men  often  find  greater  difficulty  in  resisting  temptations, 
and  less  alacrity  in  the  performance  of  their  duties, 
than  they  could  wish : yet  is  the  religious  principle 


* ‘ Such  a life  and  knowledge  as  this  is,  peculiarly  belongs  to  the 
true  and  sober  Christian  ; who  lives  in  him,  who  is  life  itself ; and  is 
enlightened  by  him,  who  is  the  truth  itself ; and  is  made  partaker  of  the 
divine  unction,  and  “ knoweth  all  ^things,”  as  St.  John  speaks.  This 
life  is  nothing  else,  but  God’s  own  breath  within  him,  and  an  infant- 
Christ,  if  I may  use  the  expression,  formed  in  his  soul.’ — John  Smith. 
Select  Discourses^  p.  24. — Ed, 


16  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL, 

never  quite  extinguished,  nor  are  they  abandoned  to 
the  power  of  those  corrupt  affections,  which  sway  and 
overrule  the  re0t  of  the  world. 

ITS  FREEDOM  AND  UNCONSTRAINEDNESS. 

Again,  religion  may  be  defined  by  the  name  of  life^ 
because  it  is  an  inward,  free,  and  self-moving  principle ; 
and  those  who  have  made  progress  in  it,  are  not  actuated 
only  by  external  motives,  driven  merely  by  threatenings, 
nor  bribed  by  promises,  nor  constrained  by  laws  ; but 
are  powerfully  inclined  to  that  which  is  good,  and  de- 
light in  the  performance  of  it.  The  love  which  a pious 
man  bears  to  God  and  goodness,  is  not  so  much  in 
virtue  of  a command  enjoining  him  so  to  do,  as  by  a 
new  nature,  instructing  and  prompting  him  to  it ; nor 
does  he  pay  his  devotions  as  an  unavoidable  tribute, 
only  to  appease  the  divine  justice,  or  to  quiet  his  cla- 
morous conscience ; but  those  religious  exercises  are 
the  proper  emanations  of  the  divine  life,  the  natural 
employments  of  the  new-born  soul.  He  prays,  and 
gives  thanks,  and  repents,  not  only  because  these  things 
are  commanded,  but  rather  because  he  is  sensible  of 
his  wants,  and  of  the  Divine  goodness,  and  of  the  folly 
and  misery  of  a sinful  life.  His  charity  is  not  forced, 
nor  his  alms  extorted  from  him : his  love  makes  him 
willing  to  give ; and,  though  there  were  no  outward 
obligation,  his  “ heart  would  devise  liberal  things.” 
Injustice,  intemperance,  and  all  other  vices,  are  as  con- 
trary to  his  temper  and  constitution,  as  the  basest 
actions  are  to  the  most  generous  spirit,  and  impudence 
and  scurrility  to  those  who  are  naturally  modest : so 
that  I may  well  say  with  Saint  John,  Whosoever  is 
born  of  God,  doth  not  commit  sin ; for  his  seed  re- 
maineth  in  him  : and  he  cannot  sin,  because  he  is  born 
of  God.”^  Though  holy  and  religious  persons  much 
eye  the  law  of  God,  and  have  a great  regard  unto  it ; 
yet  it  is  not  so  much  the  satiction  of  the  law,  as  its 
reasonableness,  and  purity,  and  goodness,  which  pre- 
vail with  them  : they  account  it  excellent  and  desirable 
in  itself,  and  feel  that  in  keeping  of  it  there  is  great 


t 1 John  iii.  9. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  17 

reward  ; and  that  divine  love  wherewith  they  are  ac- 
tuated, makes  them  become  a law  unto  themselves  : 

Q.uis  legem  det  amantibus  'I 

Major  est  amor  lex  ipse  sibi.® 

Who  shall  prescribe  a law  to  lovers  'I 

Love  is  a greater  law,  itself  to  itself. 

In  a word,  what  our  blessed  Saviour  said  of  himself, 
is,  in  some  measure,  applicable  to  his  followers,  that 
“ it  is  their  meat  and  drink  to  do  their  Father’s  will 
and,  as  the  natural  appetite  is  carried  out  toward  food, 
though  we  should  not  reflect  on  the  necessity  of  it  for 
the  preservation  of  our  lives ; so  are  they  borne,  with 
a natural  and  unforced  propension,  toward  that  which 
is  good  and  commendable.  It  is  true,  external  motives 
are  many  times  of  great  use,  to  excite  and  stir  up  this 
inward  principle  ; especially  in  its  infancy  and  weak- 
ness, when  it  is  often  so  languid  that  the  man  himself 
can  scarce  discern  it,  hardly  being  able  to  move  one 
step  forward,  but  when  he  is  pushed  by  his  hopes  or 
his  fears  ; by  the  pressure  of  an  affliction,  or  the  sense 
of  a mercy  ; by  the  authority  of  the  law,  or  the  persua- 
sion of  others.  Now,  if  such  a person  be  conscientious 
and  uniform  in  his  obedience,  and  earnestly  groan 
under  the  sense  of  his  dulness,  and  be  desirous  to  per- 
form his  duties  with  more  spirit  and  vigor  ; these  are 
the  first  motions  of  a divine  life:  which,  though  it  be 
faint  and  weak,  will  surely  be  cherished  by  the  influ- 
ences of  heaven,  and  grow  unto  greater  maturity.  But 
he  who  is  utterly  destitute  of  this  inward  principle,  and 
does  not  aspire  unto  it,  but  contents  himself  with  those 
performances  wheunto  he  is  prompted  by  education  or 
custom,  by  the  fear  of  hell,  or  by  carnal  notions  of 
heaven, — can  no  more  be  accounted  a religious  person, 
than  a puppet  can  be  called  a man.  This  forced  and 
artificial  religion  is  commonly  heavy  and  languid,  like 
the  motion  of  a weight  forced  upward  : it  is  cold  and 
spiritless,  like  the  uneasy  compliance  of  a wife  married 
against  her  will,  who  carries  it  dutifully  toward  the 
husband  whom  she  does  not  love,  out  of  some  sense  of 
virtue  and  honor.  Hence,  also,  this  religion  is  scant 
and  niggardly,  especially  in  those  duties  which  do 


« Boethius, 


3# 


d John  iv.  34. 


18  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

greatest  violence  to  men’s  carnal  inclinations ; and 
those  slavish  spirits  will  be  sure  to  do  no  more,  than  is 
absolutely  required.  It  is  a law  which  compels  them, 
and  they  will  be  loth  to  go  beyond  its  strict  demands  ; 
nay,  they  will  ever  be  putting  such  glosses  on  it,  as 
may  leave  themselves  the  greatest  liberty.  Whereas, 
the  spirit  of  true  religion  is  frank  and  liberal,  far  from 
such  peevish  and  narrow  reckoning ; and  he  who  has 
given  himself  entirely  to  God,  will  never  think  he  does 
too  much  for  him. 

RELIGION  A DIVINE  PRINCIPLE. 

By  this  time,  I hope,  it  appears  that  religion  is  with 
a great  deal  of  reason  termed  a life^  or  vital  principle ; 
and  that  it  is  very  necessary  to  distinguish  between  it, 
and  that  obedience  which  is  constrained,  and  depends 
on  external  causes. 

I come  next  to  give  an  account,  why  I defined  it  by 
the  name  of  divine  life.  And  so  it  may  be  called,  not 
only  with  respect  to  its  fountain  and  original,  having 
God  for  its  author,  and  being  wrought  in  the  souls  of 
men  by  the  power  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  but  with  respect 
to  its  nature  also  ; religion  being  a resemblance  of  the 
Divine  perfections,  the  image  of  the  Almighty  shining 
in  the  soul  of  man  : nay,  it  is  a real  participation  of  his 
nature  ; it  is  a beam  of  the  eternal  light — a drop  of  that 
infinite  ocean  of  goodness  ; and  they  who  are  endued 
with  it,  may  be  said  to  have  God  dwelling  within  their 
souls,  and  Christ  formed  within  them. 

WHAT  THE  natural  LIFE  IS. 

Before  I descend  to  a more  particular  consideration 
of  that  divine  life  wherein  true  religion  consists,  it  will, 
perhaps,  be  fit  to  speak  a little  of  that  natural,  or  animal 
life,  which  prevails  in  those  who  are  strangers  to  the 
divine.  And  by  this  I understand  nothing  else,  but  our 
inclination  and  propension  toward  those  things  which 
are  pleasing  and  acceptable  to  nature  : or  self-love,  is- 
suing forth,  and  spreading  itself  into  as  many  branches, 
as  men  have  several  appetites  and  inclinations.  The 
root  and  foundation  of  the  animal  life  I reckon  to  be 
sense;  taking  it  largely  as  it  is  opposed  to  faith,  and 
as  it  imports  our  perception  and  sensation  of  things 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 


19 


that  are  either  grateful  or  troublesome.  Now,  these 
animal  affections  considered  in  themselves,  and  as  they 
are  implanted  in  us  by  nature,  are  not  vicious  or  blame- 
able  ; nay,  they  are  instances  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
Creator,  furnishing  his  creatures  with  such  appetites  as 
tend  to  the  preservation  and  welfare  of  their  lives. 
These  are  instead  of  a law  unto  the  brute  beasts ; 
whereby  they  are  directed  towards  the  ends  for  which 
they  were  made.  But  man  being  made  for  higher 
purposes,  and  to  be  guided  by  more  excellent  laws, 
becomes  guilty  and  criminal,  when  he  is  so  far  trans- 
ported by  the  inclinations  of  this  lower  life,  as  to  vio- 
late his  duty,  or  neglect  the  higher  and  more  noble 
designs  of  his  creation.  Our  natural  affections  are  not 
wholly  to  be  extirpated  and  destroyed  ; but  only  to  be 
moderated  and  overruled  by  a superior  and  more  ex- 
cellent principle.  In  a word,  the  difference  between  a 
religious  and  wicked  man,  is,  that  in  the  one,  divine 
life  bears  sway,  in  the  other,  animal  life  prevails. 

THE  DIFFERENT  TENDENCIES  OF  THE  NATURAL  LIFE. 

But  it  is  strange  to  observe,  unto  what  different 
courses  this  natural  principle  will  sometimes  carry  those 
who  are  wholly  guided  by  it,  according  to  the  diverse 
circumstances  that  concur  with  it  to  determine  them. 
And  the  not  considering  this  frequently  occasions  very 
dangerous  mistakes,  making  men  think  well  of  them- 
selves on  account  of  that  seeming  difference  which  is 
between  them  and  others ; whereas,  perhaps,  their 
actions  all  the  while  flow  from  one  and  the  same  ori- 
ginal. If  we  consider  the  natural  temper  and  constitu- 
tion of  men’s  souls,  we  shall  find  some  to  be  airy, 
frolicksome  and  light,  which  makes  their  behavior  ex- 
travagant and  ridiculous  : others  are  naturally  serious 
and  severe,  and  their  whole  carriage  is  composed  into 
such  gravity,  as  gains  them  a great  deal  of  reverence 
and  esteem.  Some  are  of  a humorsome,  rugged,  and 
m.orose  temper,  and  can  neither  be  pleased  themselves 
nor  endure  that  others  should  be  so.  But  all  are  not 
born  with  such  sour  and  unhappy  dispositions  ; some 
persons  have  a certain  sweetness  and  benignity  rooted 
in  their  natures,  and  they  find  the  greatest  pleasure  in 
the  endearments  of  society,  and  the  mutual  compla- 


20  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

cency  of  friends,  and  covet  nothing  more  than  to  have 
every  body  obliged  to  them.  And  it  is  well  that  nature 
has  provided  this  complexional  tenderness,  to  supply 
the  defect  of  true  charity  in  the  world,  and  to  incline 
men  to  do  something  for  one  another’s  welfare.  Again, 
with  respect  to  education,  some  have  never  been  taught 
to  follow  any  other  rules  than  those  of  pleasure  or  ad- 
vantage ; but  others  are  so  inured  to  observe  the  strictest 
rules  of  decency  and  honor,  and,  in  some  instances,  of 
virtue,  that  they  are  hardly  capable  of  doing  any  thing 
which  they  have  been  accustomed  to.  look  upon  as  base 
and  unworthy. 

In  fine,  it  is  no  small  difference  in  the  deportment  of 
mere  natural  men,  that  arises  from  the  strength  or 
weakness  of  their  wit  or  judgment,  and  from  their  care 
or  negligence  in  using  them.  Intemperance  and  im- 
purity, injustice  and  oppression,  and  all  those  other 
impieties  which  abound  in  the  Avorld,  and  render  it  so 
miserable,  are  the  issues  of  self-love ; the  effect  of  the 
animal  life,  when  it  is  neither  overpowered  by  religion, 
nor  governed  by  natural  reason.  But,  if  it  once  take 
hold  of  reason,  and  get  judgment  and  wit  to  be  of  its 
party,  it  will,  many  times,  disdain  the  grosser  sort  of 
vices,  and  spring  up  unto  fair  imitations  of  virtue  and 
goodness.  If  a man  have  but  so  much  reason,  as  to 
consider  the  prejudice  which  intemperance  and  inordi- 
nate desires  bring  upon  his  health,  his  fortune,  and  his 
reputation,  self-love  may  suffice  to  restrain  him  : and 
one  may  observe  the  rules  of  moral  justice  in  dealing 
with  others,  as  the  best  way  to  secure  his  own  interest, 
and  maintain  his  credit  in  the  world.  But  this  is  not 
all.  This  natural  principle,  by  the  help  of  reason,  may 
take  a higher  flight,  and  come  nearer  the  excellence  of 
piety  and  religion.  It  may  incline  a man  to  the  diligent 
study  of  divine  truths ; for  why  should  not  these,  as 
well  as  other  speculations,  be  pleasant  and  grateful  to 
curious  and  inquisitive  minds  ? It  may  make  men  zealous 
in  maintaining  and  propagating  such  opinions  as  they 
have  espoused,  and  desirous  that  others  should  submit  to 
their  judgment,  and  approve  the  choice  of  religion  which 
themselves  have  made.  It  may  make  them  delight  to 
hear  and  compose  excellent  discourses,  about  the  mat- 
ters of  religion ; for  eloquence  is  very  pleasant,  whaU 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  21 

ever  be  the  subject.  Nay,  some  it  may  dispose  to  no 
small  height  of  sensible  devotion.  The  glorious  things 
that  are  spoken  of  heaven,  may  make  even  a carnal 
heart  in  love  with  it : the  metaphors  and  similitudes 
made  use  of  in  Scripture,  of  crowns  and  sceptres,  and 
rivers  of  pleasure,  will  easily  affect  a man’s  fancy,  and 
make  him  wish  to  be  there,  though  he  neither  under- 
stand nor  desire  those  spiritual  pleasures,  which  are 
described  and  shadowed  forth  by  those  similitudes. 
And,  when  such  a person  comes  to  believe  that  Christ 
has  purchased  those  glorious  things  for  him,  he  may 
feel  a kind  of  tenderness  and  affection  towards  so  great 
a benefactor,  and  imagine  that  he  is  mightily  enamored 
with  him ; and  yet,  all  the  while,  he  may  continue  a 
stranger  to  the  holy  temper  and  spirit  of  the  blessed 
Jesus.  And  w^hat  share  the  natural  constitution  may 
have  in  the  rapturous  devotions  of  some  melancholy 
persons,  has  been  excellently  discovered  of  late,  by 
several  learned  and  judicious  pens. 

To  conclude,  there  is  nothing  proper  to  make  a man’s 
life  pleasant,  or  himself  eminent  and  conspicuous  in  the 
world,  to  which  this  natural  principle,  assisted  by  wit 
and  reason,  may  not  prompt  him.  And,  though  I do 
not  condemn  these  things  in  themselves,  yet  it  concerns 
us  nearly  to  know  and  consider  their  nature ; both  that 
we  may  keep  within  due  bounds,  and  also  that  tUc  may 
learn  never  to  value  ourselves  on  account  of  such  attain- 
ments, nor  give  the  name  gf  religion  to  our  natural 
appetites  or  performances. 

WHEREIN  the  DIVINE  LIFE  CONSISTS. 

It  is  now  time  to  return  to  the  consideration  of  that 
divine  life,  whereof  I was  discoursing  before ; that 
“life  w^hich  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God,”  and  therefore 
has  no  glorious  show  or  appearance  in  the  world,  and  to 
the  natural  man  will  seem  a mean  and  insipid  notion. 
As  the  animal  life  consists  in  that  narrow  and  confined 
love  which  terminates  in  a man’s  self,  and  in  his  pro- 
pension towards  those  things  which  are  pleasing  to 
nature  ; so  the  divine  life  stands  in  an  universal  and 
unbounded  affection,  and  in  the  mastery  over  our  natu- 
ral inclinations,  that  they  tnay  never  be  able  to  betray 
us  to  those  things  which  we  know  to  be  blameable. 


22  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUCAL, 

The  root  of  the  divine  life  is  faith  ; the  chief  branches 
are,  love  to  God,  charity  to  man,  purity  and  humility : 
for,  as  an  excellent  person  has  well  observed,  however 
these  names  be  common  and  vulgar,  and  make  no  extra- 
ordinary sound,  yet  they  carry  such  a mighty  sense, 
that  the  tongue  of  man  or  angel,  can  pronounce  nothing 
more  weighty  or  excellent. 

Faith  has  the  same  place  in  the  divine  life,  which 
sense  has  in  the  natural ; being,  indeed,  nothing  else 
but  a kind  of  sense,  or  feeling  persuasion  of  spiritual 
things.  It  extends  itself  unto  all  divine  truths  : but,  in 
our  lapsed  estate,  it  has  a peculiar  relation  to  the  de- 
claration of  God’s  mercy  and  reconcileableness  to  sin- 
ners through  a Mediator ; and  therefore,  receiving  its 
denomination  from  that  principal  object,  is  ordinarily 
termed in  Jesus  Christ. 

The  love  of  God  is  a delightful  and  affectionate  sense 
of  the  Divine  perfections  ; which  makes  the  soul  resign 
and  sacrifice  itself  wholly  unto  him,  desiring  above  all 
things  to  please  him,  and  delighting  in  nothing  so  much, 
as  in  fellowship  and  communion  with  him,  and  in  being 
ready  to  do  or  suffer  any  thing,  for  his  sake,  or  at  his 
pleasure.  Though  this  affection  may  have  its  first  rise 
from  the  favors  and  mercies  of  God  towards  ourselves, 
yet,  in  its  growth  and  progress,  it  transcends  such  par- 
ticula^considerations,  and  grounds  itself  on  his  infinite 
goodness,  manifested  in  all  the  works  of  creation  and 
providence.  A soul  thus  possessed  with  divine  love, 
must  needs  be  enlarged  towards  all  mankind  in  a sin- 
cere and  unbounded  affection,  because  of  the  relation 
they  have  to  God,  being  his  creatures  and  having  some- 
thing of  his  image  stamped  upon  them.  And  this  is 
that  charity ^ which  I named  as  the  second  branch  of 
religion,  and  under  which,  all  the  parts  of  justice,  all 
the  duties  which  we  owe  to  our  neighbor,  are  eminently 
comprehended  : for  he  who  truly  loves  all  the  world, 
will  be  nearly  concerned  in  the  interest  of  every  one  ; 
and,  far  from  wronging  or  injuring  any  person,  will  resent 
any  evil  that  befals  others,  as  if  it  happened  to  himself. 

By  purity^  I understand  a due  abstractedness  from 
the  body,  and  mastery  over  the  inferior  appetites ; or 
such  a temper  and  disposition  of  mind  as  makes  a man 
despise,  and  abstain  from,  all  pleasures  and  delights  of 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  23 

sense  or  fancy,  which  are  sinful  in  themselves,  or  which 
tend  to  extinguish  or  lessen  our  relish  for  more  divine 
and  intellectual  pleasures  ; which  also  infers  a resolute- 
ness to  undergo  all  those  hardships  he  may  meet  with 
in  the  performance  of  his  duty  : so  that,  not  only  chas- 
tity and  temperance,  but  also  Christian  courage  and 
magnanimity,  may  come  under  this  head. 

Humility,  imports  a deep  sense  of  our  own  meanness, 
with  a hearty  and  affectionate  acknowledgment  of  our 
owing  all  that  we  are  to  the  Divine  bounty : which  is 
always  accompanied  by  a profound  Submission  to  the 
will  of  God,  and  by  great  deadness  towards  the  glory 
of  the  world,  and  applause  of  men. 

These  are  the  highest  perfections  of  which  either 
men  or  angels  are  capable ; the  very  foundation  of 
heaven  laid  in  the  soul.  And  he  who  has  attained  them, 
needs  not  pry  into  the  hidden  rolls  of  God’s  decrees, 
or  search  the  volumes  of  heaven,  to  know  what  is  de- 
termined about  his  everlasting  condition ; he  may  find 
a copy  of  God’s  thoughts  concerning  him,  written  in 
his  own  breast.  His  love  to  God,  may  give  him  as- 
surance of  God’s  favor  to  him ; and  those  beginnings 
of  happiness,  which  he  feels,  in  the  conformity  of  the 
powers  of  his  soul  to  the  nature  of  God,  and  in  com- 
pliance with  his  will,  are  a sure  pledge  that  his  felicity 
shall  be  perfect  and  continued  to  all  eternity.  And  it 
is  not  without  reason  that  one  said,  “ I had  rather  see 
the  real  impressions  of  a God-like  nature  upon  my  own 
soul,  than  have  a vision  from  heaven,  or  an  angel  sent 
to  tell  me  that  my  name  were  enrolled  in  the  book  of 
life.”^ 


• “ Though  I think  it  worthy  of  a Christian,  to  endeavor  the  assur- 
ance of  his  own  salvation  ; yet,  perhaps  it  might  be  the  safest  way  to 
moderate  his  curiosity  of  prying  into  God’s  book  of  life,  and  to  stay 
awhile,  until  he  sees  himself  within  the  confines  of  salvation  itself. 
Should  a man  hear  a voice  from  heaven,  or  see  a vision  from  the  Al- 
mighty,  to  testify  unto  him  the  love  of  God  towards  him,  yet,  me- 
thinks,  it  were  more  desirable,  to  find  a revelation  of  all  from  within, 
arising  up  from  the  bottom  and  centre  of  a man’s  own  soul,  in  the 
real  and  internal  impressions  of  a god-like  nature  upon  his  own  spirit ; 
and  thus  to  find  the  foundation  and  beginning  of  heaven  and  happi- 
ness within  himself : it  were  more  desirable,  to  see  the  crucifying  of 
our  own  will,  the  mortifying  of  the  mere  animal  life,  and  to  see  a divine 
life  rising  up  in  the  room  of  it,  as  a sure  pledge  and  inchoation  of 
immortality  and  happiness,  the  very  essence  of  which  consists  in  a per- 


24 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 


RELIGION  BETTER  UNDERSTOOD  BY  ACTIONS  THAN  BY 
WORDS. 

When  we  have  said  all  that  we  can,  the  secret  mys- 
teries of  a new  nature  and  divine  life  can  never  be 
sufficiently  expressed ; language  and  words  cannot 
reach  them ; nor  can  they  be  truly  understood,  but  by 
those  souls  that  are  enkindled  within,  and  awakened  to 
the  sense  and  relish  of  spiritual  things:  “There  is  a 
spirit  in  man,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty  giveth 
this  understanding.”  The  power  and  life  of  religion 
may  be  better  expressed  in  actions  than  in  words ; be- 
cause actions  are  more  lively  things,  and  better  repre- 
sent the  inward  principle  whence  they  proceed.  And, 
therefore,  we  may  take  the  best  measure  of  those  gra- 
cious endowments,  from  the  deportment  of  those  in 
whom  they  reside  ; especially,  as  they  are  perfectly 
exemplified  in  the  holy  life  of  our  blessed  Saviour ; a 
main  part  of  whose  business  in  this  world  was,  to  teach 
by  his  practice  what  he  required  of  others,  and  to  make 
his  own  conversation  an  exact  resemblance  of  those 
unparalleled  rules  which  he  prescribed  : so  that,  if  ever 
true  goodness  was  visible  to  mortal  eyes,  it  was  then, 
when  his  presence  did  beautify  and  illustrate  this  lower 
world. 


feet  conformity,  and  cheerful  compliance  of  all  the  powers  of  our  souls 
with  the  will  of  God. 

“ The  best  way  of  gaining  a well-grounded  assurance  of  the  divine 
love  is  this,  for  a man  to  overcome  himself,  and  his  own  will : ‘ To 
him  that  overcometh  shall  be  given  that  white  stone,  and  in  it  the  new 
name  written  which  no  man  knoweth,  but  he  that  receiveth  it.’  He 
that  beholds  the  Sun  of  righteousness  arising  out  of  the  horizon  of  his 
soul,  with  healing  in  its  wings,  and  chasing  away  all  that  misty  dark- 
ness of  his  own  self-will  and  passions, — such  a one  desires  not  now 
the  star-light,  to  know  whether  it  be  day  or  not ; nor  cares  he  to 
pry  into  heaven’s  secrets,  and  to  search  into  the  hidden  rolls  of  eternity, 
there  to  see  the  whole  plot  of  his  salvation ; for  he  views  it  transacted 
upon  the  inward  stage  of  his  own  soul,  and,  reflecting  upon  himself, 
he  may  behold  a heaven  opened  from  within,  and  a throne  set  up  in  his 
soul,  and  an  Almighty  Saviour  sitting  upon  it;,  and  reigning  within 
him  : he  now  finds  the  kingdom  of  heaven  within  him,  and  sees  that 
it  is  not  a thing  merely  reserved  for  him  without  him,  being  alrcad}^ 
made  partaker  of  the  sweetness  and  efficacy  of  it.’ — John  Smith. 
Select  Discourses^  p.  460.  ed,  8vo. — Ed. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 


DIVINE  LOVE  EXEMPLIFIED  IN  OUR  SAVIOUR  ; HIS  DILI- 
GENCE IN  DOING  god’s  WILL,  AND  HIS  PATIENCE  IN 

BEARING  IT. 

That  sincere  and  devoted  affection  with  which  his 
blessed  soul  constantly  regarded  his  heavenly  Father, 
expressed  itself  in  an  entire  resignation  to  his  will. 
This  was  his  “ very  meat,  to  do  the  will,  and  finish  the 
work,  of  him  that  sent  him.”  This  was  the  exercise 
of  his  childhood,  this  the  constant  employment  of  his 
riper  age.  He  spared  no  travail  or  pains  while  he  was 
about  his  Father’s  business,  but  took  such  infinite  con- 
tent and  satisfaction  in  the  performance  of  it,  that, 
when,  faint  and  weary  with  his  journey,  he  rested  him- 
self on  Jacob’s  well,  and  entreated  water  of  the  Sama- 
ritan woman,  the  success  of  his  conference  with  her, 
and  the  accession  which  was  made  to  the  kingdom  of 
God,  filled  his  mind  with  such  delight  as  seemed  to 
have  redounded  to  his  very  body  ; refreshing  his  spirits 
and  making  him  forget  the  thirst  of  which  he  had  com- 
plained before,  and  refuse  the  meat  which  he  had  sent 
his  disciples  to  buy. 

Nor  was  he  less  patient  and  submissive  in  suffering,^ 
than  diligent  in  performing,  the  will  of  God.  He  en- 
dured the  sharpest  afflictions,  and  extremest  miseries, 
that  ever  were  inflicted  on  any  mortal,  without  a re- 
pining thought,  or  discontented  word.  For,  though  he 
was  far  from  a stupid  insensibility,  or  a fantastic  or 
Stoical  obstinacy,  and  had  as  quick  a sense  of  pain  as 
other  men,  and  the  deepest  apprehension  of  what  he 
was  to  suffer  in  his  soul,  (as  his  bloody  sweat,  and  the 
sore  amazement  and  sorrow  which  he  professed,  abun- 
dantly declare  ;)  yet  he  entirely  submitted,  and  willingly 
acquiesced  in  that  severe  dispensation  of  Providence. 

And  he  prayed  to  God,  that  “ if  it  were  possible,”  (or, 
as  one  of  the  evangelists  has  it,  “ if  he  were  willing,”) 
“ that  cup  might  be  removed ;”  yet  he  gently  added, 
“Nevertheless,  not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done.”  Of 
what  strange  import  are  the  expressions,  where  he 
first  acknowledges  the  anguish  of  his  spirit,  “Now  is 
my  soul  troubled which  would  seem  to  produce  a 
kind  of  demur,  “ And  what  shall  I say  ?”  And  then 
he  proceeds  to  deprecate  his  sufferings,  “ Father,  save 


26  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

me  from  this  hour words,  which  he  had  no  sooner 
uttered,  than,  as  it  were  on  second  thoughts,  he  recalls 
them,  in  these  expressions  : But  for  this  cause  came 
I into  the  world;”  and  concludes,  “Father,  glorify  thy 
name.”  Now,  we  must  not  look  on  this  as  any  levity, 
or  blameable  weakness  in  the  blessed  Jesus.  He  knew, 
all  along,  what  he  was  to  suffer,  and  did  most  resolutely 
undergo  it.  But  it  shows  us  the  inconceivable  weight 
and  pressure  that  he  was  to  bear ; which,  being  so 
afflicting,  and  so  contrary  to  nature,  he  could  not  think 
of  it  without  terror ; yet,  considering  the  will  of  God, 
and  the  glory  which  from  thence  was  to  redound  to 
him,  he  was  not  only  content,  but  desirous,  to  suffer  to 
the  uttermost. 


HIS  CONSTANT  DEVOTION. 

Another  instance  of  his  love  to  God,  was  his  delight 
in  conversing  with  him  by  prayer.  This  made  him  fre- 
quently retire  from  the  world,  and,  with  the  greatest 
devotion  and  pleasure,  spend  whole  nights  in  that  hea- 
venly exercise,  though  he  had  no  sins  to  confess,  and 
but  few  secular  interests  to  pray  for : which,  alas ! 
are  almost  the  only  things  that  are  wont  to  drive  us  to 
our  devotions.  Nay,  we  may  say  his  whole  life  was  a 
kind  of  prayer,  a constant  course  of  communion  with 
God.  If  the  sacrifice  was  not  always  offering,  yet  was 
the  fire  still  kept  alive.  Nor  was  ever  the  blessed  Jesus 
surprised  with  that  dulness  or  tepidity  of  spirit,  which 
we  must,  many  times,  wrestle  with,  before  we  can  be  fit 
for  the  exercise  of  devotion. 

HIS  CHARITY  TO  MEN. 

In  the  second  place,  I should  speak  of  his  love  and 
charity  towards  all  men.  But  he  who  would  express  it 
must  transcribe  the  history  of  the  Gospel,  and  comment 
upon  it : for  scarce  any  thing  is  recorded  to  have  been 
done  or  spoken  by  him,  which  was  not  designed  for  the 
good  and  advantage  of  some  one  or  other.  All  his  mi- 
raculous works  were  instances  of  his  goodness,  as  well 
as  his  power ; and  they  benefited  those  on  whom  they 
were  wrought,  as  well  as  amazed  the  beholders.  His 
charity  was  not  confined  to  his  kindred  or  relations  ; 
nor  was  all  his  kindness  swallowed  up  in  the  endear- 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  27 

ments  of  that  peculiar  friendship,  which  he  felt  towards 
his  beloved  disciple  : every  one  was  his  friend  who 
obeyed  his  holy  commands;  and  “whosoever  did  the 
will  of  his  Father,”  the  same  was  as  “his  brother,  and 
sister,  and  mother.” 

Never  was  any  person  unwelcome  to  him,  who  came 
with  an  honest  intention ; nor  did  he  deny  any  request 
which  tended  to  the  good  of  those  that  asked  it.  So  that, 
what  was-epoken  of  that  Roman  emperor,  whom,  for  his 
goodness,  they  called  the  darling  of  mankind, f was  really 
performed  by  him.  Never  did  any  depart  from  him  with 
a heavy  countenance,  except  that  rich  youth  ^ who  was 
sorry  to  hear  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  was  valued 
at  a rate  so  costly,  and  that  he  could  not  save  his  soul 
and  his  money  too.  And  certainly  it  troubled  our  Sa- 
viour to  see,  that  when  a price  was  in  his  hand  to  get 
wisdom,  yet  he  had  no  heart  to  it.  The  ingenuousness 
that  appeared  in  his  first  address,  had  already  procured 
some  kindness  for  him;  for  it  is  said,  “And  Jesus  be- 
holding him,  loved  him.”  But  must  he,  for  his  sake,  cut 
out  a new  way  to  heaven,  and  alter  the  nature  of  things, 
which  make  it  impossible  that  a covetous  man  can  be 
happy? 

And  what  shall  I speak  of  his  meekness,  who  could 
encounter  the  monstrous  ingratitude  and  dissimulation 
of  his  betrayer,  in  no  harsher  terms  than  “ Judas,  be- 
trayest  thou  the  Son  of  man  with  a kiss  ?”  What  fur- 
ther evidence  could  we  desire,  of  his  fervent  and  un- 
bounded charity,  than  that  he  willingly  laid  down  his 
life  even  for  his  most  bitter  enemies  ; and,  mingling  his 
prayers  with  his  blood,  besought  the  Father  that  his 
death  might  not  be  laid  to  their  charge,  but  might  be- 
come the  means  of  eternal  life  to  those  very  persons 
who  procured  it? 

HIS  PURITY. 

The  third  branch  of  the  divine  life  is  purity^  which, 
as  I said,  consists  in  a neglect  of  worldly  enjoyments 
and  accommodations,  and  in  a resolute  endurance  of  all 
such  troubles  as  we  meet  with  in  doing  our  duty.  Now, 
surely,  if  ever  any  person  was  wholly  dead  to  all  the  plea- 


f Deliciffi  human!  generis. 


Mark  x. 


28 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

sures  of  the  natural  life,  it  was  the  blessed  Jesus,  who  sel- 
dom tasted  them  when  they  came  in  his  way,  but  never 
stepped  out  of  his  road  to  seek  them.  Though  he  supplied 
the  want  of  wine  with  a miracle,  yet  he  would  not  work  one 
for  the  relief  of  his  own  hunger  in  the  wilderness ; so  gra- 
cious and  divine  was  the  temper  of  his  soul,  in  allowing 
to  others  such  lawful  gratifications  as  himself  thought 
good  to  abstain  from  ; and  supplying,  not  only  their 
more  extreme  and  pressing  necessities,  but  even  their 
smaller  and  less  considerable  wants.  We  many  times 
hear  of  our  Saviour’s  sighs,  and  groans,  and  tears ; but 
never  that  he  laughed,  and  but  once  that  he  rejoiced  in 
spirit : so  that,  through  his  whole  life,  he  exactly  an- 
swered that  character  given  of  him  by  the  prophet  of 
old  : he  was  “ a man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with 
grief.”  Nor  were  the  troubles  and  disaccommodations  of 
his  life  other  than  matter  of  choice.  For  never  did  any  one 
appear  on  the  stage  of  the  world  with  greater  advantage 
to  have  raised  himself  to  the  highest  secular  felicity. 
He  who  could  bring  together  such  a prodigious  number 
of  fishes  into  his  disciples’  net,  and,  at  another  time, 
receive  that  tribute  from  a fish,  which  he  was  to  pay  to 
the  temple,  might  easily  have  made  himself  the  richest 
person  in  the  world.  Nay,  without  any  money,  he  could 
have  maintained  an  army  powerful  enough  to  have  jos- 
tled Caesar  out  of  his  throne  ; having,  oftener  than  once, 
fed  several  thousands  with  a few  loaves  and  small  fishes. 
But,  to  show  how  small  esteem  he  had  for  all  the  enjoy- 
ments in  the  world,  he  chose  to  live  in  so  poor  and 
mean  a condition,  that,  “ though  the  foxes  had  holes, 
and  the  birds  of  the  air  had  nests,  yet  he  who  was  lord 
and  heir  of  all  things,  had  not  whereon  to  lay  his  head.” 
He  did  not  frequent  the  courts  of  princes,  nor  affect  the 
acquaintance  and  converse  of  great  ones ; but,  being 
reputed  the  son  of  a carpenter,  he  had  fishermen,  and 
such  other  poor  people,  for  his  companions,  and  lived 
in  such  a manner,  as  suited  the  meanness  of  that  con- 
dition. 


HIS  HUMILITY. 

And  thus  I am  brought  unawares  to  speak  of  his 
humility^  the  last  branch  of  the  divine  life,  wherein  he 
was  a most  eminent  pattern  to  us,  that  we  might  “learn 


29 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 

of  him  to  be  meek  and  lowly  in  heart.”  I shall  not  now 
speak  of  that  infinite  condescension  of  the  eternal  Son 
of  God,  in  taking  our  nature  upon  him ; but  only  reflect 
on  our  Saviour’s  lowly  and  humble  deportment,  while 
he  was  in  the  world.  He  had  none  of  those  sins  and 
imperfections,  which  may  justly  humble  the  best  of 
men ; but  he  was  so  entirely  swallowed  up  with  a deep 
sense  of  the  infinite  perfections  of  God,  that  he  appeared 
as  nothing  in  his  own  eyes,  I mean,  so  far  as  he  was  a 
creature.  He  considered  those  eminent  perfections 
which  shone  in  his  blessed  soul,  as  not  his  own,  but  the 
gifts  of  God  ; and,  therefore,  assumed  nothing  to  him- 
self for  them,  but,  with  the  profoundest  humility,  re- 
nounced all  pretences  to  them.  Hence,  he  refused  that 
ordinary  compellation  of  good  master^  when  addressed 
to  his  human  nature,  by  one  who,  it  seems,  was  ignorant 
of  his  divinity:  “Why  callest  thou  me  good?  There 
is  none  good,  but  God  only:”  as  if  he  had  said,  ‘The 
goodness  of  any  creature  (and  such  only  tliou  takest 
me  to  be)  is  not  worthy  to  be  named  or  taken  notice  of; 
it  is  God  alone  who  is  originally  and  essentially  gdod.’ 
He  never  made  use  of  his  miraculous  power  for  vanity 
or  ostentation.  He  would  not  gratify  the  curiosity  of 
the  Jews  with  a sign  from  heaven — with  some  prodigious 
appearance  in  the  air : nor  would  he  follow  the  advice 
of  his  countrymen  and  kindred,  who  would  haVe  had 
all  his  great  works  performed  in  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
for  the  purpose  of  gaining  him  the  greater  fame.  But, 
when  his  charity  had  prompted  him  to  the  relief  of  the 
miserable,  his  humility  made  him,  many  times,  enjoin 
the  concealment  of  the  miracle  ; and  when  the  glory  of 
God  and  the  design  for  which  he  came  into  the  world, 
required  the  publication  of  his  mighty  works,  he  ascribed 
the  honor  of  all  to  his  Father,  telling  them,  “that  of 
himself  he  was  able  to  do  nothing.” 

I cannot  insist  on  all  the  instances  of  humility,  in  his 
deportment  towards  men : his  withdrawing  himself, 
when  they  would  have  made  him  a king ; his  subjection, 
not  only  to  his  blessed  mother,  but  to  her  husband, 
during  his  younger  years ; and  his  submission  to  all  the 
indignities  which  his  rude  and  malicious  enemies  afSxed 
upon  him.  The  history  of  his  holy  life,  recorded  by 
those  who  conversed  with  him,  is  full  of  such  passages 


30 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL^ 

as  these.  And,  indeed,  the  serious  and  attentive  study 
of  it,  is  the  best  way  to  get  right  measures  of  humility, 
and  all  the  other  parts  of  religion  which  I have  been 
attempting  to  describe. 

But  now,  that  I may  lessen  your  trouble  in  reading  a 
long  letter,  by  making  some  pauses  in  it,  let  me  here 
subjoin  a prayer,  which  might  be  proper  when  one  who 
had  formerly  entertained  some  false  notions  of  religion, 
begins  to  discover  what  it  is. 

A PRAYER. 

‘Infinite  and  eternal  Majesty,  author  and  fountain 
of  being  and  blessedness,  how  little  do  we,  poor  sinful 
creatures,  know  of  Thee,  or  the  way  to  serve  and  please 
Thee  ! We  talk  of  religion,  and  pretend  to  it ; but, 
alas  ! how  few  are  there  that  know  and  consider  what 
it  means  ? How  easily  do  we  mistake  the  affections  of 
our  nature,  and  the  issues  of  self-love,  for  those  divine 
graces  which  alone  can  render  us  acceptable  in  thy  sight ! 
It  may  justly  grieve  me,  to  consider,  that  I should  have 
wandered  so  long,  and  contented  myself  so  often,  with 
vain  shadows  and  false  images  of  piety  and  religion. 
Yet  I cannot  but  acknowledge  and  adore  thy  goodness, 
who  ,hast  been  pleased,  in  some  measure,  to  open  mine 
eyes,  and  to  let  me  see  what  it  is  at  which  I ought  to 
aim.  I rejoice  to  consider  of  what  mighty  improve- 
ments my  nature  is  capable,  and  what  a divine  temper 
of  spirit  shines  in  those,  whom  Thou  art  pleased  to 
choose,  and  causest  to  approach  unto  thee.  Blessed  be 
thine  infinite  mercy,  who  sentest  thine  own  Son  to  dwell 
among  men,  and  to  instruct  them  by  his  example  as  well 
as  by  his  laws ; giving  them  a perfect  pattern  of  what 
they  ought  to  be.  O,  that  the  holy  life  of  the  blessed 
Jesus  may  be  always  in  my  thoughts,  and  before  mine 
eyes,  till  I receive  a deep  sense  and  impression  of  those 
excellent  graces  which  shone  so  eminently  in  him.  And, 
let  me  never  cease  my  endeavors,  till  that  new  and  di- 
vine nature  prevail  in  my  soul,  and  Christ  be  formed 
within  me,’ 


SCOUGAL.]  or  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 


31 


PART  11. 

THE  EXCELLENCY  AND  ADVANTAGE  OF  RELIGION. 

And  now,  my  dear  friend,  having  discovered  the 
nature  of  true  religion,  before  I proceed  any  further  it 
will  not,  perhaps,  be  unfit  to  employ  our  meditations  a 
little  on  its  excellency  and  advantages,  that  we  may  be 
excited  to  the  more  vigorous  and  diligent  prosecution 
of  those  methods  whereby  we  may  obtain  so  great  a 
felicity.  But  what  words  shall  we  find  to  express  that 
inward  satisfaction,  those  hidden  pleasures,  which  can 
never  be  rightly  understood,  but  by  those  holy  souls 
who  feel  them?  “A  stranger  intermeddieth  not  with 
their  joy.”^  Holiness  is  the  right  temper,  the  vigorous 
and  healthful  constitution  of  the  soul.  Its  faculties  had 
formerly  been  so  enfeebled  and  disordered  that  they 
could  not  exercise  their  natural  functions ; it  had  wea- 
ried itself  with  endless  tossings  and  rollings,  and  was 
never  able  to  find  any  rest;  now,  that  distemper  being 
removed,  it  feels  itself  well ; there  is  a due  harmony  in 
its  faculties,  and  a sprightly  vigor  possesses  every  part. 
The  understanding  can  discern  what  is  good,  and  the 
will  can  cleave  unto  it ; the  affections  are  not  tied  to 
the  motions  of  sense,  and  the  influence  of  external  ob- 
jects : they  are  stirred  by  more  divine  impressions,  they 
are  touched  a sense  of  invisible  things. 

THE  excellency  OF  DIVINE  LOVE. 

Let  US  now  descend,  if  you  please,  to  a nearer  and 
more  particular  view  of  religion,  in  those  several 
branches  of  it  which  were  named  before.  Let  us  con- 
sider the  love  and  affection  by  which  holy  souls  are 
united  to  God,  that  we  may  see  what  excellency  and 
felicity  it  involves.  Love  is  that  powerful  aiid  preva- 
lent passion,  by  which  all  the  faculties  and  inclinations 
of  the  soul  are  determined,  and  on  which  both  its  per- 
fection and  happiness  depend.  Th.e  worth  and  excel- 


* Prov.  xiv.  10^ 


32  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

lency  of  a soul  is  to  be  measured  by  the  object  of  its 
love : he  who  loves  mean  and  sordid  things,  thereby 
becomes  base  and  vile  ; but  a noble  and  well-placed 
affection  advances  and  improves  the  spirit  into  a con- 
formity with  the  perfections  which  it  loves.  The  images 
of  these  frequently  present  themselves  to  the  mind,  and, 
by  a secret  force  and  energy,  insinuate  themselves  into 
the  very  constitution  of  the  soul,  and  mould  and  fashion 
it  unto  their  own  likeness.  Hence  we  may  see,  how 
easily  lovers  or  friends  slide  into  the  imitation  of  the 
persons  whom  they  regard ; and  how,  even  before  they 
are  aware,  they  begin  to  resemble  them,  not  only  in 
the  more  considerable  instances  of  their  deportment, 
but  in  their  very  voice  and  gesture,  and  in  that  which  we 
call  their  mien  and  air.  And  certainly  we  should  as  well 
transcribe  the  virtues  and  inward  beauties  of  the  soul, 
if  they  were  the  object  and  motive  of  our  love.  But 
now,  as  all  the  creatures  with  whom  we  converse  have 
their  mixture  and  alloy,  we  are  always  in  danger  of 
being  sullied  and  corrupted,  by  placing  our  affections 
on  them.  Passion  easily  blinds  our  eyes,  so  that  we 
first  approve,  and  then  imitate,  the  things  that  are 
blameable  in  their  conduct.  The  true  way  to  improve 
and  ennoble  our  souls  is  by  fixing  our  love  on  the  divine 
perfections,  that  we  may  have  them  always  before  us, 
and  may  derive  an  impression  of  them  on  ourselves  ; 
and,  “ beholding,  with  open  face,  as  in  a glass,  the  glory 
of  the  Lord,  we  may  be  changed  into  the  same  image, 
from  glory  to  glory.”  He  who,  with  a generous  and 
holy  ambition,  has  raised  his  eyes  towards  that  un- 
created beauty  and  goodness,  and  fixed  his  affection 
there,  is  quite  of  another  spirit,  of  a more  excellent  and 
heroic  temper,  than  the  rest  of  the  world : he  cannot 
but  infinitely  disdain  all  mean  and  unworthy  things,  and 
will  not  entertain  any  low  or  base  thoughts,  which 
might  disparage  his  high  and  noble  pretensions.  Love 
is  the  greatest  and  most  excellent  thing  we  are  masters 
of ; and  therefore  it  is  folly  and  baseness  to  bestow  it 
unworthily:  it  is,  indeed,  the  only  thing  we  can  call 
our  own : other  things  may  be  taken  from  us  by  vio- 
lence, but  none  can  ravish  our  love.  If  any  thing  else 
be  counted  ours,  by  giving  our  love  we  give  all ; we 
make  over  our  hearts  and  wills,  by  which  we  possess  all 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  33 

other  enjoyments.  It  is  not  possible  to  refuse  him  any 
thing,  to  whom,  by  love,  we  have  given  ourselves.  Nay, 
since  it  is  the  privilege  of  gifts,  to  receive  their  value 
from  the  mind  of  the  giver,  and  not  to  be  measured  by 
the  event,  but  by  the  desire, — he  who  loveth  may,  in 
some  sern^e,  be  said,  not  only  to  bestow  all  that  he  has, 
but  all  things  else  which  may  make  the  beloved  person 
happy,  since  he  heartily  wishes  them,  and  would  readily 
give  them,  if  they  were  in  his  power  ; in  which  sense  it 
is,  that  one  makes  bold  to  say,  ‘ That  divine  love  doth, 
in  a manner,  giye  God  unto  himself,  by  the  complacency 
it  takes  in  the  happiness  and  perfection  of  his  nature.’ 
But,  though  this  may  seem  too  strained  an  expression, 
certainly  love  is  the  worthiest  present  we  can  offer  unto 
God  ; and  it  is  extremely  debased  when  we  bestow  it  in 
any  other  way. 

When  this  affection  is  misplaced,  it  often  vents  itself 
in  such  expressions  as  point  at  its  genuine  and  proper 
object,  and  insinuate  where  it  ought  to  be  placed.  The 
flattering  and  blasphemous  terms  of  adoration,  in  which 
men  sometimes  express  their  passion,  are  the  lan- 
guage of  that  affection  which  waa  made  and  designed 
for  GoDb ; as  he  who  is  accustomed  to  speak  to  some 
great  person,  will,  perhaps  unawares,  accost  another 
with  those  titles  which  he  was  wont  to  give  him.  But 
certainly  that  passion  which  accounts  its  object  a deity, 
ought  to  be  bestowed  on  him  alone  who  really  is  so. 
Those  unlimited  submissions,  which  would  debase  the 
soul  if  directed  to  any  other,  will  exalt  and  ennoble  it 
when  placed  here.  Those  chains  and  cords  of  love 
are  infinitely  more  glorious  than  liberty  itself;  this 
slavery  is  more  noble  than  all  the  empires  in  the  world. 

THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  DIVINE  LOVE. 

Again,  as  divine  love  advances  and  elevates  the  soul, 
SO  it  is  that  alone  which  can  make  it  happy.  The  high- 


b An  example  may  be  cited,  from  an  author  who  rarely  thus 
offends : — 

Come,  Stella,  queen  of  all  my  heart ! 

Come,  born  to  fill  its  vast  desires 
Thy  looks  perpetual  joys  impart. 

Thy  voice  perpetual  love  inspires.” 

Johnson. — Ed^ 


34  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SC0UGAL» 

est  and  most  enchanting  pleasures,  the  most  solid  and 
substantial  delights,  of  which  human  nature  is  capable, 
are  those  which  arise  from  the  endearments  of  a well- 
placed  and  successful  affection.  That  which  imbitters 
love,  and  makes  it  ordinarily  a very  troublesome  and 
hurtful  passion,  is  the  fixing  it  on  those  who  have  not 
worth  enough  to  deserve  it,  or  affection  and  gratitude 
to  requite  it,  or  whose  absence  may  deprive  us  of  the 
pleasure  of  their  converse,  or  their  miseries  occasion 
our  trouble.  To  all  these  evils  they  are  exposed,  whose 
chief  and  supreme  affection  is  fixed  on  creatures  like 
themselves  : but  the  love  of  God  delivers  us  from  them 
all. 


THE  WORTH  OF  THE  OBJECT. 

First,  love  must  needs  be  miserable,  and  full  of  trouble 
and  disquietude,  when  there  is  not  worth  and  excel- 
lency enough  in  the  object,  to  answer  the  vastness  of  its 
capacity.  So  eager  and  violent  a passion,  cannot  but 
fret  and  torment  the  spirit  when  it  finds  not  materials 
to  satisfy  its  cravings.  And,  indeed,  so  large  and  un- 
bounded is  its  nature,  that  It  must  be  extremely  pinched 
and  straitened,  when  confined  to  any  creature  ; nothing 
below  an  infinite  good  can  afford  it  room  to  stretch 
itself,  and  exert  its  vigor  and  activity.  What  is  a little 
skin-deep  beauty,  or  some  small  degrees  of  goodness, 
to  match  or  satisfy  a passion  which  was  made  for  God  ; 
designed  to  embrace  an  infinite  good  1 No  wonder 
lovers  so  hardly  suffer  any  rival,  and  do  not  desire  that 
others  should  approve  their  passion  by  imitating  it. 
They  know  the  scantiness  and  narrowness  of  the  good 
which  they  love  ; that  it  cannot  suffice  two,  being,  in 
effect,  too  little  for  one.  Hence  love,  “ which  is  strong 
as  death,”  occasions  “jealousy  which  is  cruel  as  the 
grave the  coals  whereof  are  coals  of  fire,  which  has 
a most  violent  flame. 

But  divine  love  has  no  mixture  of  this  gall ; when 
once  the  soul  is  fixed  on  that  supreme  and  all-sufficient 
good,  it  finds  so  much  perfection  and  goodness  as  not 
only  answers  and  satisfies  its  affection,  but  masters  and 
overpowers  it  too  : it  finds  all  its  love  to  be  too  faint 
and  languid  for  such  a noble  object,  and  is  only  sorry 
that  it  can  command  no  more.  It  wishes  for  the  flames 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  35 

of  a seraph,  and  longs  for  the  time  when  it  shall  be 
wholly  melted  and  dissolved  into  love  : and  because  it 
can  do  so  little  itself,  it  desires  the  assistance  of  the 
whole  creation,  that  angels  and  men  would  concur  with 
it,  in  the  admiration  and  love  of  these  infinite  perfections. 

THE  CERTAINTY  TO  BE  BELOVED  AGAIN. 

Again,  love  is  accompanied  with  trouble,  when  it 
misses  a suitable  return  of  affection : love  is  the  most 
valuable  thing  we  can  bestow,  and  by  giving  it,  we  give 
in  effect  all  that  we  have ; and  therefore,  it  must  needs 
be  afflicting  to  find  so  great  a gift  despised — that  the 
present  which  one  has  made  of  his  whole  heart,  cannot 
prevail  to  obtain  any  return.  Perfect  love  is  a kind  of 
self-dereliction,  a wandering  out  of  ourselves  ; it  is  a 
kind  of  voluntary  death,  wherein  the  lover  dies  to  him- 
self, and  to  his  own  interests,  not  thinking  of  them,  nor 
caring  for  them  any  more,  and  minding  nothing  but 
how  he  may  please  and  gratify  the  party  whom  he  loves. 
Thus,  he  is  quite  undone  unless  he  meets  with  recipro- 
cal affection  : he  neglects  himself,  and  the  other  has 
no  regard  to  him  ; but  if  he  be  beloved,  he  is  revived, 
as  it  were,  and  lives  in  the  soul  and  care  of  the  person 
whom  he  loves ; and  now  he  begins  to  mind  his  own 
concernments,  not  so  much  because  they  are  his,  as 
because  the  beloved  is  pleased  to  own  an  interest  in 
them.  He  becomes  dear  unto  himself,  because  he  is  so 
unto  the  other. 

But  why  should  I enlarge  on  so  known  a matter? 
Nothing  can  be  more  clear,  than  that  the  happiness  of 
love  depends  on  the  return  it  meets  with.  And  here 
the  divine  lover  has  unspeakably  the  advantage,  having 
placed  his  affection  on  him  whose  nature  is  love ; whose 
goodness  is  as  infinite  as  his  being ; whose  mercy  pre- 
vented us  when  we  were  his  enemie§,  and  therefore 
cannot  help  embracing  us  when  we  are  become  his 
friends.  It  is  utterly  impossible  that  God  should  deny 
his  love  to  a soul  wholly  devoted  to  him,  and  which 
desires  nothing  so  much  as  to  serve  and  please  him. 
He  cannot  disdain  his  own  image,  nor  the  heart  in 
which  it  is  engraven.  Love  is  all  the  tribute  which 
we  can  pay;  and  it  is  a sacrifice  which  he  will  not 
despise. 


36 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 


THE  PRESENCE  OF  THE  BELOVED  PERSON. 

Another  thing  which  disturbs  the  pleasure  of  love,  and 
renders  it  a miserable  and  unquiet  passion,  is  absence 
and  separation  from  those  we  love.  It  is  not  without  a 
sensible  affliction  that  friends  part,  though  for  a little 
time.  It  is  sad  to  be  deprived  of  that  society  which  is 
so  delightful ; our  life  becomes  tedious,  being  spent  in 
an  impatient  expectation  of  the  happy  hour  wherein 
we  may  meet  again.  But  if  death  have  made  the  sepa- 
ration, as  at  some  time  or  other  it  must,  this  occasions 
a grief  scarce  to  be  paralleled  by  all  the  misfortunes  of 
human  life,  and  wherein  we  pay  dear  enough  for  the 
comforts  of  friendship.  But  oh  how  happy  are  those 
who  have  placed  their  love  on  Him,  who  can  never  be 
absent  from  them ! They  need  but  open  their  eyes, 
and  they  shall  every  where  behold  the  traces  of  his 
presence  and  glory,  and  converse  with  him  whom  their 
soul  loveth.  And  this  makes  the  darkest  prison,  or 
wildest  desert,  not  only  supportable,  but  delightful  to 
them. 

THE  DIVINE  LOVE  MAKES  US  PARTAKE  OF  AN  INFINITE 
HAPPINESS. 

In  fine,  a lover  is  miserable,  if  the  person  whom  he 
loves  be  so.  They  who  have  made  an  exchange  of 
hearts  by  love,  get  thereby  an  interest  in  one  another’s 
happiness  and  misery;  and  this  makes  love  a trouble- 
some passion,  when  placed  on  earth.  The  most  for- 
tunate person  has  grief  enough  to  mar  the  tranquillity 
of  his  friend ; and  it  is  hard  to  hold  out,  when  we  are 
attacked  on  all  hands,  and  suffer,  not  only  in  our  own 
person,  but  in  that  of  another.  But  if  God  were  the 
object  of  our  lo^e,  we  should  share  in  an  infinite  happi- 
ness, without  any  mixture  or  possibility  of  diminution  : 
we  should  rejoice  to  behold  the  glory  of  God,  and  receive 
comfort  and  pleasure  from  all  the  praises  with  which 
he  is  extolled,  by  men  and  angels.  It  should  delight 
us  beyond  all  expression,  to  consider,  that  the  beloved 
of  our  souls  is  infinitely  happy  in  himself,  and  that  all 
his  enemies  cannot  shake  or  unsettle  his  throne  ; “ that 
our  God  is  in  the  heavens,  and  doeth  whatever  he 
pleaseth.” 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  37 

Behold ! on  what  sure  foundations  his  happiness  is 
built,  whose  soul  is  possessed  with  divine  love,  whose 
will  is  transformed  into  the  will  of  God,  and  whose 
greatest  desire  is,  that  his  Maker  should  be  pleased  : Oh 
the  peace,  the  rest,  the  satisfaction,  which  attends  on 
such  a temper  of  mind  ! 

HE  THAT  LOVES  GOD  FINDS  SWEETNESS  IN  EVERY 
DISPENSATION. 

What  an  infinite  pleasure  must  it  needs  be,  thu  s,  as 
it  were,  to  lose  ourselves  in  Him,  and,  swallowed  up  in 
the  overcoming  sense  of  his  goodness,  to  offer  ourselves 
a living  sacrifice,  always  ascending  to  him  in  flames  of 
love.  Never  does  a soul  know  what  solid  joy  and  sub- 
stantial pleasure  is,  till,  being  weary  of  itself,  it  re- 
nounces all  self-property,  gives  itself  up  to  the  author 
of  its  being,  and  feels  itself  become  a hallowed  and 
devoted  thing.  Till  it  can  say,  from  an  inward  sense 
and  feeling,  ‘ My  beloved  is  mine^  I account  all  his  in- 
terest mine  own.  And  I am  His  ; I am  content  to  be 
any  thing  for  him  ; I care  not  for  myself,  but  that  I may 
serve  him.’  A person  moulded  into  this  temper  would 
find  pleasure  in  all  the  dispensations  of  Providence: 
Temporal  enjoyments  would  have  another  relish,  when 
he  could  taste  the  divine  goodness  in  them,  and  consider 
them  as  tokens  of  love  sent  by  his  dearest  Lord  and 
Maker.  And  chastisements,  though  they  be  not  joyous, 
but  grievous,  would  lose  their  sting ; the  rod  as  well  as 
the  staff  would  comfort  him  ; he  would  snatch  a kiss 
from  the  hand  that  was  smiting  him,  and  gather  sweet- 
ness from  that  severity;  nay,  he  would  rejoice,  that, 
though  God  did  not  the  will  of  such  a worthless  and 
foolish  creature  as  himself,  yet  he  did  his  own  will,  and 
accomplished  his  own  designs,  which  are  infinitely  more 
holy  and  wise. 

THE  DUTIES  OF  RELIGION  ARE  DELIGHTFUL  TO  HIM. 

The  exercises  of  religion,  which  to  others  are  insipid 
and  tedious,  yield  the  highest  pleasure  and  delight  to 
souls  possessed  with  divine  love  : they  rejoice  when 
they  are  called  to  ‘‘  go  up  to  the  house  of  the  Lord, 
that  they  may  see  his  power  and  his  glory,  as  they  have 
4 


38  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

formerly  seen  it,  in  his  sanctuary. They  never  think 
themselves  so  happy,  as  when,  having  retired  from  the 
world,  and  escaped  from  the  noise  and  hurry  of  affairs, 
and  silenced  all  their  clamorous  passions,  those  trouble- 
some guests  within,  they  have  placed  themselves  in  the 
presence  of  God,  and  entertain  fellowship  and  com- 
munion with  him ; they  delight  to  adore  his  perfections 
and  recount  his  favors;  to  protest  their  affection  to 
him,  and  tell  him  a thousand  times  that  they  love 
him;  to  lay  their  troubles  or  wants  before  him,  and 
disburthen  their  hearts  in  his  bosom.  Repentance  itself 
is  a delightful  exercise  when  it  flows  from  the  principle 
of  love ; there  is  a secret  sweetness,  which  accompanies 
those  tears  of  remorse,  those  meltings  and  relentings  of 
a soul  returning  unto  God,  and  lamenting  its  former 
unkindness. 

The  severities  of  a holy  life,  and  that  constant  watch 
which  we  are  obliged  to  keep  over  our  hearts  and 
ways,  are  very  troublesome  to  those  who  are  only  ruled 
and  actuated  by  an  external  law,  and  have  no  law  in 
their  minds,  inclining  them  to  the  performance  of  their 
duty ; but  where  divine  love  possesses  the  soul,  it  stands 
as  sentinel,  to  keep  out  every  thing  that  may  offend  the 
beloved,  and  disdainfully  repulses  those  temptations 
which  assault  it ; it  complies  cheerfully,  not  only  with 
explicit  commands,  but  with  the  most  secret  notices  of 
the  beloved’s  pleasure ; and  is  ingenious  in  discovering 
what  will  be  most  grateful  and  acceptable  unto  him : it 
makes  mortification  and  self-denial  change  their  harsh 
and  dreadful  names,  and  become  easy,  sweet,  and  de- 
lightful things. 

But  I find  this  part  of  my  letter  swell  more  than  I 
designed ; indeed,  who  would  not  be  tempted  to  dwell 
on  so  pleasant  a theme  ? I shall,  however,  endeavor 
to  make  compensation,  by  brevity  in  the  other  points. 

THE  EXCELLENCY  OF  CHARITY. 

The  next  branch  of  the  divine  life  is  a universal 
charity  and  love.  The  excellency  of  this  grace  will  be 
easily  acknowledged,  for  what  can  be  more  noble  and 
generous,  than  a heart  enlarged  to  embrace  the  whole 


k Psalm  Ixiii.  2, 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  REClt^N.  39 

world ; whose  wishes  and  designs  are  levelled  at  the 
good  and  welfare  of  the  universe  ; which  considers  every 
man’s  interest  as  its  own  ? He  who  loves  his  neighbor 
as  himself,  can  never  entertain  any  base  or  injurious 
thought,  or  be  wanting  in  expressions  of  bounty.  He  had 
rather  suffer  a thousand  wrongs,  than  be  guilty  of  one  ; 
and  never  accounts  himself  happy  but  when  some  one 
or  other  has  been  benefited  by  him.  The  malice  or 
ingratitude  of  men  is  not  able  to  resist  his  love;  he 
overlooks  their  injuries,  and  pities  their  folly,  and  over- 
comes their  evil  with  good ; and  never  designs  ^any 
other  revenge  against  his  most  bitter  and  malicious  ene- 
mies, than  to  confer  all  the  obligations  he  can  upon 
them,  whether  they  will  or  not.  Is  it  any  wonder  that 
such  a person  is  reverenced  and  admired,  and  accounted 
the  darling  of  mankind  ? This  inward  goodness  and 
benignity  of  spirit,  reflects  a certain  sweetness  and 
serenity  upon  the  very  countenance,  and  makes  it  amia- 
ble and  lovely.  It  inspires  the  soul  with  a noble  reso- 
lution and  courage,  and  makes  it  capable  of  enterprising 
and  effecting  the  highest  things.  Those  heroic  actions 
which  we  are  wont  to  read  with  admiration,  have,  for 
the  most  part,  been  the  effect  of  the  love  of  one’s  coun- 
try, or  of  particular  friendships ; and  certainly  a more 
extensive  and  universal  affection  must  be  much  more 
powerful  and  efficacious. 

THE  PLEASURE  THAT  ATTENDS  IT. 

Again,  as  charity  flows  from  a noble  and  excellent 
temper,  so  it  is  accompanied  with  the  greatest  satisfac- 
tion and  pleasure.  It  delights  the  soul  to  feel  itself 
thus  enlarged ; to  be  delivered  from  those  disquieting 
as  well  as  deformed  passions,  malice,  hatred,  and  envy ; 
and  to  become  gentle,  sweet,  and  benign.  Had  I my 
choice  of  all  things  that  might  tend  to  my  present  feli- 
city, I would  pitch  upon  this — to  have  my  heart  pos- 
sessed with  the  greatest  kindness  and  affection  towards 
all  men  in  the  world.  I am  sure  this  would  make  me 
partake  in  all  the  happiness  of  others ; their  inward 
endowments  and  outward  prosperity ; every  thing  that 
did  benefit  and  advantage  them,  would  afford  me  com- 
fort and  pleasure.  And,  though  I should  frequently 
meet  with  occasions  of  grief  and  compassion,  yet  there  / 


40  • NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

is  a sweeetness  in  commiseration,  which  makes  it  infi- 
nitely more  desirable  than  a stupid  insensibility ; and 
the  consideration  of  that  infinite  goodness  and  wisdom 
which  governs  the  world,  might  repress  any  excessive 
trouble  for  particular  calamities  that  happen  in  it ; and 
the  hopes  or  possibility  of  men’s  after-happiness,  might 
moderate  their  sorrow  for  their  present  misfortunes. 
Certainly,  next  to  the  love  and  enjoyment  of  God,  that 
ardent  charity  and  affection  with  which  blessed  souls 
embrace  one  another,  is  justly  to  be  reckoned  as  the 
greatest  felicity  of  those  regions  above ; and,  did  it  uni- 
versally prevail  in  the  world,  it  would  anticipate  that 
blessedness,  and  make  us  taste  of  the  joys  of  heaven 
upon  earth. 


THE  EXCELLENCY  OF  PURITY. 

That  which  I named  as  a third  branch  of  religion, 
was  purity ; and  you  may  remember  I described  it  to 
consist  in  a contempt  of  sensual  pleasures,  and  a reso- 
luteness to  undergo  those  troubles  and  pains  with  which 
we  may  meet,  in  the  performance  of  our  duty.  Now, 
the  naming  of  this  may  suffice  to  recommend  it  as  a 
most  noble  and  excellent  quality.  There  is  no  slavery 
so  base  as  that  whereby  a man  becomes  a drudge  to  his 
own  passions, »nor  any  victory  so  glorious  as  that  which 
is  obtained  over  them.  Never  can  that  person  be  capa- 
ble  of  any  thing  that  is  noble  and  worthy,  who  is  sunk 
in  the  gross  and  feculent  pleasures  of  sense,  or  bewitched 
with  the  light  and  airy  gratifications  of  fancy;  but  the 
religious  soul  is  of  a more  sublime  and  divine  temper ; 
it  knows  it  was  made  for  higher  things,  and  scorns  to 
step  aside  one  foot  out  of  the  way  of  holiness,  for  the 
obtaining  any  of  these. 

THE  DELIGHT  IT  AFFORDS. 

And  this  purity  is  accompanied  with  a great  deal  of 
pleasure : whatsoever  defiles  the  soul,  disturbs  it  too ; 
all  impure  delights  have  a sting  in  them,  and  leave  smart 
and  trouble  behind  them.  Excess  and  intemperance, 
and  all  inordinate  desires,  are  so  much  enemies  to  the 
health  of  the  body,  and  the  interests  of  this  present  life, 
that  a little  consideration  might  oblige  any  rational  man 
to  forbear  them  on  that  very  score ; and  if  religious  per- 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  41 

sons  go  higher,  and  not  only  abstain  from  noxious  plea- 
sures, but  neglect  those  that  are  innocent,  this  is  not  to 
be  looked  upon  as  any  violent  and  uneasy  restraint,  but 
as  the  effect  of  better  choice ; their  minds  are  taken  up 
in  the  pursuit  of  more  sublime  and  refined  delights,  and 
they  cannot,  therefore,  be  concerned  in  these.  Any 
person  that  is  engaged  in  a violent  and  passionate  affec- 
tion, will  easily  forget  his  ordinary  gratifications ; will 
be  little  curious  about  his  diet,  or  his  bodily  ease,  or 
the  divertisements  he  was  wont  to  delight  in.  No  won- 
der, then,  if  souls  overpowered  with  divine  love  despise 
inferior  pleasures,  and  are  almost  ready  to  grudge  the 
body  its  necessary  attendance,  for  the  common  accom- 
modations of  life  ; judging  all  these  impertinent  to  their 
main  happiness,  and  to  those  higher  enjoyments  which 
they  are  pursuing.  As  for  the  hardships  with  which 
they  may  meet,  they  rejoice  in  them,  as  opportunities 
to  exercise  and  testify  their  affection ; and  since  they 
are  able  to  do  so  little  for  God,  they  are  glad  of  the 
honor  to  suffer  for  him. 

THE  EXCELLENCY  OF  Hui^ILITY. 

The  last  branch  of  religion  is  humility.  And  how- 
ever, to  vulgar  and  carnal  eyes,  this  may  appear  an  ab- 
ject, base,  and  despicable  quality,  yet  really,  the  soul 
of  man  is  not  capable  of  a higher  and  more  noble  en- 
dowment. It  is  a silly  ignorance  that  begets  pride  : but 
humility  arises  from  a near  acquaintance  with  excellent 
things ; which  keeps  men  from  doting  on  trifles,  or  ad- 
miring themselves  because  of  some  petty  attainments. 
Noble  and  well-educated  souls  have  no  such  high  opinion 
of  riches,  beauty,  strength,  and  other  like  advantages, 
as  to  value  themselves  for  them,  or  despise  those  that 
want  them : and  as  for  inward  worth  and  real  goodness, 
their  sense  of  the  divine  perfections  makes  them  think 
very  meanly  of  any  thing  they  have  hitherto  attained ; 
still  endeavoring  to  surmount  themselves,  and  make 
nearer  approaches  to  those  infinite  excellences  which 
they  admire. 

I know  not  what  thoughts  people  may  have  of  hu- 
mility : but  I see  almost  every  person  pretending  to  it, 
and  shunning  such  expressions  and  actions  as  may  make 
them  be  accounted  arrogant  and  presumptuous  j so 
4* 


42 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

that  those  who  are  most  desirous  of  praise,  will  be  loth 
to  commend  themselves.  What  are  all  those  compli- 
ments and  modes  of  civility,  so  frequent  in  our  ordinary 
converse,  but  so  many  protestations  of  the  esteem  of 
others,  and  the  low  thoughts  we  have  of  ourselves  ; and 
must  not  that  humility  be  a noble  and  excellent  endow- 
ment, when  the  very  shadows  of  it  are  accounted  so 
necessary  a part  of  good  breeding?* 

THE  PLEASURE  AND  SWEETNESS  OF  AN  HUMBLE 
TEMPER. 

Again,  this  grace  is  accompanied  with  a great  deal  of 
happiness  and  tranquillity.  The  proud  and  arrogant 
person  is  a trouble  to  all  that  converse  with  him,  but 
most  of  all  to  himself;  every  thing  is  enough  to  vex 
him;  but  scarce  any  thing  sufficient  to  content  and 
please  him.  He  is  ready  to  quarrel  with  every  thing 
that  falls  out ; as  if  he  himself  were  such  a considerable 
person,  that  God  Almighty  should  do  every  thing  to 
gratify  him;  and  as  if  all  the  creatures  of  heaven  and 
earth  should  wait  upon  him  and  obey  his  will.  The 
leaves  of  high  trees  shake  with  every  blast  of  wind  ; 
and  every  breath,  every  evil  word,  will  disquiet  and  tor- 
ment an  arrogant  man  : but  the  humble  person  has  this 
advantage  when  he  is  despised,  that  none  can  think 


* ‘ It  is  ROW  some  years  since  1 was  engaged,  unawares,  in  a conver- 
sation with  a strong  reasoner,  who,  at  first,  urged  the  wickedness  of 
the  American  Indians,  as  a bar  to  our  hope  of  converting  them  to 
Christianity.  But  when  I mentioned  their  temperance,  justice,  and 
veracity,  (according  to  the  accounts  I had  then  received,)  it  was  asked, 
Why,  if  those  Heathens  are  such  men  as  these,  what  will  they  gain  by 
being  made  Christians^  V^hat  will  they  gain  by  being  such  Christians, 
as  we  see  every  where  around  us  ? I could  not  deny,  they  wmuld  lose, 
not  gain,  by  such  a Christianity  as  this.  Upon  which  she  asked,  Why, 
what  else  do  you  mean  by  Christianity  1 My  plain  answer  w^as.  What 
do  you  apprehend  to  be  more  valuable  than  good  sense,  good  nature, 
and  good  manners!  All  these  are  contained,  and  that  in  the  highest 
degree,  in  what  I mean  by  Christianity.  Good  sense,  so  called,  is  but 
a poor  dim  shadow  of  what  Christians  call  faith.  Good  nature  is  only 
a faint  distant  resemblance  of  Christian  charity.  And  good  manners, 
if  of  the  most  finished  kind  that  nature,  assisted  by  art,  can  attain  to, 
is  but  a dead  picture  of  that  holiness  of  conversation,  which  is  the 
image  of  God  visibly  expressed.  All  these,  put  together  by  the  art  of 
God,  I call  Christianity.  Sir,  if  this  be  Christianity,  said  my  opponent 
in  amaze,  I never  saw  a Christian  in  my  life.’ — John  Wesley.  iVorks^ 
vol.  xiv.  p.  118. — Ed. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  43 

more  meanly  of  him  than  he  thinks  of  himself;  and 
therefore,  he  is  not  troubled  at  the  matter,  but  can 
easily  bear  those  reproaches  which  wound  others  to  the 
soul.  And  as  he  is  less  affected  with  injuries,  so  indeed 
he  is  less  obnoxious  unto  them:  ‘‘contention  which 
cometh  of  pride,”  betrays  a man  into  a thousand  incon- 
veniences, which  those  of  a meek  and  lowly  temper 
seldom  meet  with.  True  and  genuine  humility  begets 
both  a veneration  and  love,  among  all  wise  and  discern- 
ing persons  ; while  pride  defeats  its  own  design,  and 
deprives  a man  of  that  honor,  to  which  it  makes  him 
pretend. 

But,  as  the  chief  exercises  of  humility  are  those 
which  relate  unto  Almighty  God  ; so  these  are  accompa- 
nied with  the  greatest  satisfaction  and  sweetness.  It  is 
impossible  to  express  the  great  pleasure  and  delight, 
which  religious  persons  feel  in  the  lowest  prostrations 
of  their  soul  before  God,  when,  having  a deep  sense  of 
the  divine  majesty  and  glory,  they  sink,  if  I may  so 
speak,  to  the  bottom  of  their  beings,  and  vanish  and 
disappear  in  the  presence  of  God,  by  a serious  and 
affectionate  acknowledgment  of  their  own  nothingness, 
and  the  shortness  and  imperfections  of  their  attain- 
ments; when  they  understand  the  full  sense  and  em- 
phasis of  the  Psalmist’s  exclamation,  “Lord,  what  is 
man?”  and  can  utter  it  with  the  same  affection.  Never 
did  any  haughty  and  ambitious  person  receive  the 
praises  and  applauses  of  men  with  so  much  pleasure,  as 
the  humble  and  religious  renounce  them  : “ Not  unto 
us,  O Lord,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  thy  name,  give  the 
glory.” 

Thus,  I have  spoken  something  of  the  excellences 
and  advantage  of  religion  in  its  several  branches  ; but 
I should  be  very  injurious  to  the  subject,  did  I pretend 
to  have  given  any  perfect  account  of  it.  Let  us  acquaint 
ourselves  with  it,  my  dear  friend,  let  us  acquaint  our- 
selves with  it,  and  experience  will  teach  us  more  than 
all  that  ever  has  been  spoken  or  written  concerning  it. 
But,  if  we  may  suppose  the  soul  to  be  already  awakened 
unto  some  longing  desires  after  so  great  a blessedness, 
it  will  be  good  to  give  them  vent,  and  suffer  them  to 
issue  forth  in  some  such  aspirations  as  these: 


44 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 


A PRAYER. 

^ Good  God  ! what  a mighty  felicity  is  this,  to  which 
we  are  called  ! How  graciously  hast  thou  joined  our 
duty  and  happiness  together ; and  prescribed  that  for 
our  work,  the  performance  whereof  is  a great  reward  ! 
And  shall  such  silly  worms  be  advanced  to  so  great  a 
height?  Wilt  thou  allow  us  to  raise  our  eyes  to  thee  ? 
Wilt  thou  admit  and  accept  our  affection  ? Shall  we 
receive  the  impression  of  thy  divine  excellences,  by 
beholding  and  admiring  them,  and  partake  of  thy  infi- 
nite blessedness  and  glory,  by  loving  thee,  and  rejoic- 
ing in  them  ? Oh  the  happiness  of  those  souls,  that 
have  broken  the  fetters  of  self-love,  and  disentangled 
their  affection  from  every  narrow  and  particular  good ; 
whose  understandings  are  enlightened  by  thy  Holy 
Spirit,  and  their  wills  enlarged  to  the  extent  of  thine ; 
who  love  thee  above  all  things,  and  all  mankind  for  thy 
sake  ! I am  persuaded,  O God,  1 am  persuaded,  that  I 
can  never  be  happy,  till  my  carnal  and  corrupt  affections 
be  mortified;  till  the  pride  and  vanity  of  my  spirit  be 
subdued;  and  till  I come  seriously  to  despise  the  world, 
and  think  nothing  of  myself.  But  oh,  when  shall  these 
things  be  ? Oh  when  wilt  thoii  come  unto  me,  and  satisfy 
my  soul  with  thy  likeness,  making  me  holy  as  thou  art 
holy,  even  in  all  manner  of  conversation  ? Hast  thou 
given  me  a prospect  of  so  great  felicity,  and  wilt  thou 
not  bring  me  unto  it  ? Hast  thou  excited  these  desires 
in  my  soul,  and  wilt  thou  not  also  satisfy  them?  O teach 
me  to  do  thy  will,  for  thou  art  my  God  : thy  spirit  is 
good,  lead  me  unto  the  land  of  uprightness.  Quicken 
me,  O Lord,  for  thy  name’s  sake,  and  perfect  that 
which  concerneth  me.  Thy  mercy,  O Lord,  endureth 
for  ever  : forsake  not  the  works  of  thine  own  hands.’ 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 


45 


PART  IIL 

THE  DESPONDENT  THOUGHTS  OF  SOME  NEWLY  AWAKENED 
TO  A RIGHT  SENSE  OF  THINGS. 

I HAVE  hitherto  corisidered  wherein  true  religion  con" 
sists,  and  how  desirable  a thing  it  is.  But  when  one 
sees  how  extremely  distant  the  common  temper  and 
frame  of  men  is  from  it,  he  may,  perhaps,  be  ready  to 
despond,  and  think  it  utterly  impossible  to  be  attained- 
He  may  sit  down  in  sadness,  and  bemoan  himself,  and 
say,  in  the  anguish  and  bitterness  of  his  spirit,  ‘ They 
are  happy  indeed,  whose  souls  are  av/akened  unto  the 
divine  life,  who  are  thus  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  their 
minds.  But,  alas  ! I am  quite  of  another  constitution, 
and  am  not  able  to  efiect  so  mighty  a change  : if  outward 
observances  could  have  done  the  business,  I might  have* 
hoped  to  acquit  myself  by  diligence  and  care ; but  since 
nothing  but  a new  nature  can  serve  the  turn,  what  am 
I able  to  do  ? I could  bestow  all  my  goods  in  oblations 
to  God,  or  alms  to  the  poor;  but  T cannot  command 
that  love  and  charity,  without  which  this  expense  could 
profit  me  nothing.  This  gift  of  God  cannot  be  purchased 
with  money  if  a man  should  give  all  the  substance  of 
his  house  for  love,  it  would  utterly  be  contemned.^  I 
could  pincT,  and  macerate  my  body,  and  undergo  many 
hardships  and  troubles,  but  I cannot  get  all  my  corrup- 
tions starved,  nor  my  affections  wholly  weaned  from 
earthly  things.  There  are  still  some  worldly  desires 
lurking  in  my  heart ; and  those  vanities  which  I have 
shut  out  of  the  doors,  are  always  getting  in  by  the  win- 
dows. I am  frequently  convinced  of  my  own  mean- 
ness, of  the  weakness  of  my  body,  and  the  far  greater 
weakness  of  my  soul ; but  tfiis  rather  begets  indignation 
and  discontent,  than  true  humility  in  my  spirit;  and 
though  I should  come  to  think  meanly  of  myself,  yet  I 
cannot  endure  that  others  should  think  so  too.  In  a 
word,  when  I reflect  on  my  highest  and  most  specious 
attainments,  I have  reason  to  suspect  that  they  are  all 
but  the  effects  of  nature,  the  issues  of  self-love  acting 


* Acts  viii,  20. 


b Cant.  viii.  7. 


46 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

under  several  disguises : and  this  principle  is  so  power- 
ful, and  so  deeply  rooted  in  me,  that  I can  never  hope 
to  be  delivered  from  the  dominion  of  it.  I may  toss 
and  turn  as  a door  on  the  hinges,  but  can  never  be  clear 
off,  or  be  quite  unhinged  of  self,  which  is  still  the  cen- 
tre of  all  my  motions.  So  that,  all  the  advantage  which 
I can  draw  from  the  discovery  of  religion,  is  but  to  see, 
at  a vast  distance,  that  felicity  which  I am  not  able  to 
reach ; like  a man  in  a shipwreck,  who  discerns  the 
land,  and  envies  the  happiness  of  those  who  are  there, 
but  thinks  it  impossible  for  himself  to  get  ashore.’ 

THE  UNREASONABLENESS  OF  THESE,  FEARS. 

These,  or  such  desponding  thoughts,  may  arise  in  the 
minds  of  those  persons  who  begin  to  conceive  some- 
what more  of  the  nature  and  excellency  of  religion  than 
before.  They  have  sjDied  the  land,  and  seen  that  it  is 
Exceedingly  good,  that  it  floweth  with  milk  and  honey ; 
but  they  find  they  have  the  children  of  Anak  to  grapple 
with ; many  powerful  appetites  and  corruptions  to  over- 
come, and  they  fear  they  shall  never  prevail  against 
them.  But  why  should  we  give  way  to  such  discou- 
raging suggestions  ? Why  should  we  entertain  such 
unreasonable  fears,  which  damp  our  spirits  and  weaken 
our  hands,  and  augment  the  difficulties  of  our  way? 
Let  us  encourage  ourselves,  my  dear  friend,  let  us  en- 
courage ourselves  .with  those  mighty  aids  which  we  are 
to  expect  in  this  spiritual  warfare ; for  greater  is  he  that 
is  for  us,  than  all  that  can  rise  against  us ; “ The  eter- 
nal God  is  our  refuge^  and  underneath  are  the  everlast- 
ing arms.”<^ — “ Let  us  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in 
the  power  of  his  might ; for  he  it  is,  that  shall  tread 
down  our  enemies.”  God  has  a tender  regard  for  the 
souls  of  men,  and  is  infinitely  willing  to  promote  their 
welfare.  He  has  condescended  to  our  weakness,  and 
declared  with  an  oath,  that  he  has  no  pleasure  in  our 
destruction.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  despite  or  envy 
lodged  in  the  bosom  of  that  ever  blessed  being,  whose 
name  and  nature  is  love.  He  created  us,  at  first,  in  a 
happy  condition ; and  now,  when  we  are  fallen  from  it, 
“ he  hath  laid  help  upon  one  that  is  mighty  to  save,”^ 


® Deut.  xxxiii.  27.  ^ Psalm  Ixxxix.  19. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  47 

hath  committed  the  care  of  our  souls  to  no  meaner  per- 
son than  the  eternal  Son  of  his  love.  It  is  he  that  is 
the  Captain  of  our  salvation ; and  what  enemies  can  be 
too  strong  for  us,  when  we  are  fighting  under  his  ban- 
ners ? Did  not  the  Son  of  God  come  down  from  the 
bosom  of  his  Father,  and  pitch  his  tabernacle  among  the 
sons  of  men,  that  he  might  recover  and  propagate  the 
divine  life,  and  restore  the  image  of  God  in  their  souls? 
All  the  mighty  works  which  he  performed,  all  the  afflic- 
tions which  he  sustained,  had  this  for  their  scope  and 
design ; for  this  did  he  labor  and  toil ; for  this  did  he 
bleed  and  die : “ He  was  with  child ; he  Avas  in  pain, 
and  hath  he  brought  forth  nothing  but  wind  ? Hath  he 
wrought  no  deliverance  in  the  earth  ?®  Shall  he  not  see 
of  the  travail  of  his  soul  ?”^  Certainly  it  is  impossible 
that  this  great  contrivance  of  heaven  should  prove 
abortive ; that  such  a mighty  undertaking  should  fail 
and  miscarry.  It  has  already  been  effectual  for  the  sal- 
vation of  many  thousands,  who  were  once  as  far  from 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  Ave  can  suppose  ourselves  to 
be ; and  our  “ High  Priest  continueth  for  ever,  and  is 
able  to  save  them  to  the  uttermost,  that  come  unto  God 
by  him.”®  He  is  tender  and  compassionate  ; he  knoAvs 
our  infirmities,  and  had  experience  of  our  temptations : 
“ A bruised  reed  Avill  he  not  break,  and  smoking  flax 
Avill  he  not  quench,  till  he  send  forth  judgment  unto 
victory.”!'  He  has  sent  out  his  Holy  Spirit,  Avhose 
sAveet,  but  powerful  breathings,  are  still  moving  up  and 
doAvn  in  the  Avorld,  to  quicken  and  revive  the  souls  of 
men,  and  awaken  them  unto  the  sense  and  feeling  of 
those  divine  things  for  Avhich  they  were  made ; Avhich 
is  ready  to  assist  such  Aveak  and  languishing  creatures 
as  Ave  are,  in  our  essays  toAvards  holiness  and  felicity ; 
and  Avhich,  when  once  it  hath  taken  hold  of  a soul,  and 
kindled  in  it  the  smallest  spark  of  divine  love,  Avill  be 
sure  to  preserve  and  cherish,  and  bring  it  forth  into  a 
flame,  which  many  Avaters  shall  not  quench,  neither 
shall  the  floods  be  able  to  drown  it.'  Whenever  this 
day  begins  to  daAvn,  and  this  “ day-star  to  arise  in  the 
heart, it  Avill  easily  dispel  the  poAvers  of  darkness, 


e Isaiah  xxvi.  9.  ( Isaiah  liii.  IL  s Heb.  vii.  24,  25, 

^ Matt.  xii.  20.  i Cant.  viii.  7.  ^2  Pet.  i.  19. 


48 


NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

and  make  ignorance  and  folly,  and  all  the  corrupt  and 
selfish  affections  of  men,  flee  away  before  it,  as  fast  as 
the  shades  of  night  when  the  sun  cometh  out  of  his 
chambers ; for  “ the  path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shining  light, 
which  shineth  more  and  more,  unto  the  perfect  day.”* 
“They  shall  go  on  from  strength  to  strength,  till  every 
one  of  them  appear  before  God  in  Zion.”"" 

Why  should  we  think  it  impossible,  that  true  good- 
ness and  universal  love  should  ever  come  to  sway  and 
prevail  in  our  souls  ? Is  not  this  their  primitive  state 
and  condition,  their  native  and  genuine  constitution,  as. 
they  came  first  from  the  hands  of  their  Maker  1 Sin  and 
corruption  are  but  usurpers ; and,  though  they  have 
long  kept  the  possession,  yet  “ from  the  beginning  it 
was  not  so.”  That  inordinate  self-love,  which  one 
would  think  were  rooted  in  our  very  being,  and  inter- 
woven with  the  constitution  of  our  nature,  is,  neverthe- 
less, of  foreign  extraction,  and  had  no  place  at  all  in 
the  state  of  integrity.  We  have  still  so  much  reason 
left  as  to  condemn  it.  Our  understandings  are  easily 
convinced,  that  we  ought  to  be  wholly  devoted  to  Him, 
from  whom  we  have  our  being,  and  to  love  him  infinitely 
more  than  ourselves,  who  is  infinitely  better  than  we ; 
and  our  wills  would  readily  comply  with  this,  if  they 
were  not  disordered  and  put  out  of  tune.  And  is  not 
he  who  made  our  souls  able  to  rectify  and  mend  them 
again?  Shall  we  not  be  able,  by  his  assistance,  to 
vanquish  and  expel  those  violent  intruders,  “ and  turn 
unto  flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens 

No  sooner  shall  we  take  up  arms  in  this  holy  war,  but 
we  shall  have  all  the  saints  on  earth,  and  all  the  angeU 
in  heaven,  engaged  on  our  party.  The  holy  Church 
throughout  the  world,  is  daily  interceding  with  God, 
for  the  success  of  all  such  endeavors ; and,  doubtless, 
those  heavenly  hosts  above  are  nearly  concerned  in  the 
interests  of  religion,  and  infinitely  desirous  to  see  the 
divine  life  thriving  and  prevailing  in  this  inferior  world, 
and  the  will  of  God  done  by  us  on  earth,  as  it  is  done  by 
themselves  in  heaven  : may  we  not,  then,  encourage  our- 
selves, as  the  prophet  did  his  servant,  when  he  showed 
him  the  horses  and  chariots  of  fire;  “Fear  not,  for 


» Prov.  iv.  18. 


^ Psalm  Ixixvi.  7. 


Heb.  xi.  34. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  49 

they  that  be  with  us  are  more  than  they  that  be 
against  us.”° 

WE  MUST  DO  WHAT  WE  CAN,  AND  DEPEND  ON  THE 
DIVINE  ASSISTANCE. 

Away,  then,  with  all  perplexing  fears  and  desponding 
thoughts.  To  undertake  vigorously,  and  rely  confi- 
dently on  the  Divine  assistance,  is  more  than  half  the 
conquest : Let  us  arise  and  be  doing,  and  the  Lord 

will  be  with  us.”p  It  is  true,  religion  in  the  souls  of 
men,  is  the  immediate  work  of  God  ; and  all  our  natu- 
ral endeavors  can  neithe^  produce  it  alone,  nor  merit 
those  supernatural  aids  by  which  it  must  be  wrought : 
the  Holy  Ghost  must  cqme  upon  us,  and  the  power  of 
the  Highest  must  overshadow  us,  before  that  holy  thing 
can  be  begotten,  and  Christ  formed  within  us.  But 
yet,  we  must  not  expect  that  this  whole  work  shall  be 
done  without  any  concurring  endeavors  of  our  own  : 
we  must  not  lie  loitering  in  the  ditch,  and  wait  till  om- 
nipotence pulls  us  from  thence.  No,  no  ; we  must 
bestir  ourselves,  and  actuate  those  powers  which  we 
halve  already  received  : we  must  put  forth  ourselves  to 
our  utmost  capacities,  and  then  we  may  hope  that 
“ our  labor  shall  not  be  in  vain  in  the  Lord.^’'^  All  the 
art  and  industry  of  man  cannot  form  the  smallest  herb, 
or  make  a stalk  of  corn  to  grow  in  the  field  : it  is  the 
energy  of  nature,  and  the  influences  of  heaven,  which 
produce  this  effect;  it  is  God  “who  causeth  the  grass 
to  grow,  and  herb  for  the  service  of  man  and  yet 
nobody  will  say,  that  the  labors  of  the  husbandman  are 
useless  or  unnecessary.  So,  likewise,  the  human  soul 
is  immediately  created  by  God;  it  is  he  who  both  forms 
and  enlivens  the  child:  and  yet  he  has  appointed  the 
marriage-bed,  as  the  ordinary  means  for  the  propaga- 
tion of  mankind.  Though  there  must  intervene  a stroke 
of  omnipotence  to  effect  this  mighty  change  in  our 
souls,  yet  ought  we  to  do  what  we  can  to  fit  and  prepare 
ourselves.  For  we  must  break  up  our  fallow  ground, 
and  root  out  the  weeds,  and  pull  up  the  thorns,®  that  so 
we  may  be  more  ready  to  receive  the  seeds  of  grace, 

® 2 Kings  vi.  16,  17.  p 1 Chron.  xxiL  16.  i 1 Cor.  xv.  58. 

' Psalm  civ.  14.  * Jeremiah  iv.  3. 

5 


50  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL, 

and  the  dew  of  heaven.  It  is  true,  God  has  been  found 
of  some,  who  sought  him  not ; he  has  cast  himself  in 
their  way,  who  were  quite  out  of  his ; he  has  laid  hold 
upon  them,  and  stopped  their  course  on  a sudden  ; thus 
was  Saint  Paul  converted,  in  his  journey  to  Damascus. 
But,  certainly,  this  is  not  God’s  ordinary  method  of 
dealing  with  men.  Though  he  has  not  tied  himself  ta 
means,  yet  he  has  tied  us  to  the  use  of  them ; and  we 
have  never  more  reason  to  expect  the  Divine  assistance, 
than  when  we  are  doing  our  utmost  endeavors.  It 
shall,  therefore,  be  my  next  w^ork,  to  show  what  course 
we  ought  to  take,  for  attaining  that  blessed  temper 
which  I have  been  hitherto  describing.  But  here,  if,  in 
delivering  my  own  thoughts,  I shall  chance  to  differ 
from  what  is,  or  may  be,  said  by  others  in  this  matter, 
I would  not  be  thought  to  contradict  and  oppose  them, 
more  than  physicians  do,  when  they  prescribe  several 
remedies  for  the  same  disease,  which,  perhaps,  are  all 
useful  and  good.  Every  one  may  propose  the  method 
he  judges  most  proper  and  convenient ; but  he  does  not 
thereby  pretend  that  the  cure  can  never  be  effected,  un- 
less that  method  be  exactly  observed.  I doubt,  it  has 
occasioned  much  unnecessary  disquietude  to  some  holy 
persons,  that  they  have  not  found  such  a regular  and 
orderly  transaction  in  their  souls,  as  they  have  seen  de- 
scribed in  books;  that  they  have  not  passed  through  all 
those  steps  and  stages  of  conversion,  which  some  (who 
perhaps  have  felt  them  in  themselves)  have  too  pe- 
remptorily prescribed  to  others.  God  has  several  ways 
of  dealing  with  the  souls  of  men  ; and  it  suffices  if  the 
work  be  accomplished,  whatever  the  methods  have 
been. 

Again ; though,  in  proposing  directions,  I must  follow 
that  order  which  the  nature  of  things  shall  suggest; 
yet  I do  not  mean,  that  the  same  method  should  be  so 
punctually  observed  in  the  practice,  as  if  the  latter  rules 
were  never  to  be  heeded,  till  some  considerable  time 
have  been  spent  in  practising  the  former.  The  direc- 
tions which  I intend,  are  mutually  conducive  one  to 
another ; and  are  all  to  be  performed,  as  occasion  shall 
serve,  and  as  we  find  ourselves  enabled  to  perform 
them. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  51 

WE  MUST  SHUN  ALL  MANNER  OF  SIN. 

But,  if  we  desire  to  have  our  souls  moulded  to  this 
holy  frame,  to  become  partakers  of  the  Divine  nature, 
and  to  have  Christ  formed  in  our  hearts,  we  must  seri- 
ously resolve,  and  carefully*  endeavor,  to  avoid  and 
abandon  all  vicious  and  sinful  practices.  There  can  be 
no  treaty  of  peace,  till  we  lay  down  those  weapons  of 
rebellion  with  which  we  fight  against  heaven;  nor  can 
we  expect  to  have  our  distempers  cured,  if  our  daily 
food  be  poison.  Every  wilful  sin  gives  a mortal  wound 
to  the  soul,  and  removes  it  to  a greater  distance  from 
God  and  goodness  ; and  we  can  never  hope  to  have 
our  hearts  purified  from  corrupt  affections,  unless  we 
cleanse  our  hands  from  vicious  actions.  Now,  in  this 
case,  we  cannot  excuse  ourselves  by  the  pretence  of 
impossibility  ; for  surely  our  outward  man  is  some  way 
in  our  power  ; we  have  some  command  of  our  feet,  and 
hands,  and  tongue,  nay,  and  of  our  thoughts  and  fancies 
too  ; at  least,  so  far,  as  to  divert  them  from  impure  and 
sinful  objects,  and  to  turn  our  mind  another  way : and 
we  should  find  this  power  and  authority  much  strength- 
ened and  advanced,  if  we  were  careful  to  manage  and 
exercise  it.  In  the  mean  while,  I acknowledge  our 
corruptions  are  so  strong,  and  our  temptations  so  many, 
that  it  will  require  a great  deal  of  steadfastness  and  reso- 
lution, of  watchfulness  and  care,  to.  preserve  ourselves, 
even  in  this  degree  of  innocence  and  purity. 

WE  MUST  KNOW  WHAT  THINGS  ARE  SINFUL. 

And  first,  let  us  inform  ourselves  well  what  those 
sins  are,  from  which  we  ought  to  abstain.  And  here 
we  must  not  take  our  measures  from  the  maxims  of  the 
world,  or  from  the  practices  of  those,  whom,  in  charity, 
we  account  good  men.  Most  people  have  very  light 
apprehensions  of  these  things,  and  are  not  sensible  of 
any  fault,  unless  it  be  gross  and  flagitious  : and  scarcely 
reckon  any  crime  so  great,  as  that  which  they  call  pre- 
ciseness : and  those  who  are  more  serious,  allow  them- 
selves, many  times,  too  great  latitude  and  freedom. 
Alas  ! how  much  pride  and  vanity,  and  passion  and 
humor,  how  much  weakness,  and  folly,  and  sin,  every 
day  shows  itself  in  our  converse  and  behavior.  It  may 


62  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUOAL, 

be  they  are  humbled  for  it,  and  striving  against  it,  and 
are  daily  gaining  some  ground  ; but  then,  the  progress 
is  so  small,  and  their  failings  so  many,  that  we  had  need 
to  choose  an  exacter  pattern.  Every  one  of  us  must 
answer  for  himself ; and  the  practices  of  others  will 
never  warrant  and  secure \is.  It  is  the  highest  folly,  to 
regulate  our  actions  by  any  other  standard,  than  that 
by  which  they  must  be  judged.  If  ever  we  would 
“ cleanse  our  way,”  it  must  be  “ by  taking  heed  there- 
unto, according  to  the  word  of  God.”^  And  that 
“ word,  which  is  quick  and  powerful,  and  sharper  than 
any  two-edged  sword,  piercing  even  to  the  dividing 
asunder  of  soul  and  spirit,  and  of  the  joints  and  marrow, 
and  is  a discerner  of  the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the 
heart,”"  will  certainly  discover  many  things  to  be  sin- 
ful and  heinous,  which  pass  for  very  innocent  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.  Let  us,  therefore,  imitate  the  Psalm- 
ist, who  says  concerning  the  works  of  men,  “ by  the 
words  of  thy  lips,  I have  kept  myself  from  the  paths  of 
the  destroyer.”""  Let  us  acquaint  ourselves  well  with 
the  strict  and  holy  laws  of  our  religion  ; let  us  consider 
the  discourses  of  our  blessed  Saviour  (especially  that 
divine  sermon  on  the  mount,)  and  the  writings  of  his 
holy  apostles,  where  an  ingenuous  and  unbiassed  mind 
may  clearly  discern  those  limits  and  bounds,  by  which 
our  actions  ought  to  be  confined.  And  then,  let  us 
never  look  upon  any  sin  as  light  and  inconsiderable ; 
but  be  fully  persuaded,  that  the  smallest,  is  infinitely 
heinous  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  prejudicial  to  the  souls 
of  men  ; and  that,  if  we  had  a right  sense  of  things,  we 
should  be  as  deeply  atfected  with  the  least  irregularities, 
as  now  we  are  with  the  highest  crimes. 

WE  MUST  RESIST  THE  TEMPTATIONS  TO  SIN,  BY  CON- 
SIDERING THE  EVILS  THEY  WILL  DRAW  ON  US. 

But,  amongst  those  things  which  we  discover  to  be 
sinful,  there  will  be  some  unto  which,  through  the  dis- 
position of  our  nature,  or  long  custom,  or  the  endear- 
ments of  pleasure,  we  are  so  much  wedded,  that  it  will 
be  like  cutting  off  the  right  hand,  or  pulling  out  the 


‘ Psalm  cxix.  9. 


Hebrews  iv.  12. 


▼ Psalm  xvii.  4. 


53 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 

right  eye,  to  abandon  them.  But  must  we  therefore  sit 
down,  and  wait  till  all  difficulties  be  over,  and  every 
temptation  be  gone  ? This  were  to  imitate  the  fool  in 
the  poet,  who  stood  the  whole  day  at  the  river  side,  till 
all  the  waters  should  run  by.^  We  must  not  indulge 
our  inclinations,  as  we  do  little  children,  till  they  grow 
weary  of  the  thing  which  they  are  unwilling  to  let  go ; we 
must  not  continue  our  sinful  practices,  in  hopes  that  the 
Divine  grace  will  one  day  overpower  our  spirits,  and 
make  us  hate  them  for  their  own  deformity. 

Let  us  suppose  the  worst ; that  we  are  utterly  desti- 
tute of  any  supernatural  principle,  and  want  that  taste 
by  which  we  should  discern  and  abhor  perverse  things  : 
yet  surely  we  are  capable  of  some  considerations,  which 
may  be  of  force  to  persuade  us  to  this  reformation  of 
our  lives.  If  the  inward  deformity  and  heinous  nature 
of  sin  cannot  affect  us,  at  least  we  may  be  frighted  by 
those  dreadful  consequences  which  attend  it : that  same 
selfish  principle  which  urges  us  forward  unto  the  pur- 
suit of  sinful  pleasures,  will  make  us  loth  to  buy  them 
at  the  rate  of  everlasting  misery.  Thus  we  may  en- 
counter self-love  with  its  own  weapons  ; and  employ 
one  natural  inclination  for  repressing'  the  exorbitances 
of  another.  Let  us,  therefore,  accustom  ourselves  to 
consider  seriously,  wffiat  a fearful  thing  it  must  needs  be 
to  irritate  and  offend  that  infinite  Being,  on  whom  we 
depend  every  moment ; who  needs  but  withdraw  his 
mercies  to  make  ns  miserable,  or  his  assistance  to  make 
us  nothing.  Let  us  frequently  remember  the  shortness 
and  uncertainty  of  our  lives ; and  how,  after  we  have 
taken  a few  turns  more  in  the  world,  and  conversed  a 
little  longer  among  men,  we  must  all  go  down  unto  the 
dark  and  silent  grave,  and  carry  nothing  along  with  us, 
but  anguish  and  regret  for  all  our  sinful  enjoyments; 
and  then,  think  what  horror  must  needs  seize  the  guilty 
soul,  to  find  itself  naked  and  alone,  before  the  severe  and 
impartial  Judge  of  the  world,  to  render  an  exact  ac- 
count, not  only  of  its  more  important  and  considerable 
transactions,  but  of  every  word  that  the  tongue  has 


^ ‘ dui  recte  vivendi  prorogat  horam, 

Rusticus  expectat  dum  defluat  amnis ; at  ille 
Labitur,  et  labetur  in  omne  volubilis  SBvum.* 

Horat.  Epist.  1.  ii,  41. — Ed. 


5* 


54  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

uttered,  and  of  the  swiftest  and  most  secret  thoughts 
that  have  ever  passed  through  the  mind.  Let  us  some- 
times represent  unto  ourselves  the  terrors  of  that  dread- 
ful day,^  when  the  foundations  of  the  earth  shall  be 
shaken,  and  the  heavens  shall  pass  away  with  a great 
noise,  and  the  elements  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat,  and 
the  present  frame  of  nature  shall  be  dissolved,  and  our 
eyes  shall  see  the  blessed  Jesus,  (who  came  once  into 
the  world,  in  all  humility,  to  visit  us,  to  purchase  pardon 
for  us,  and  beseech  us  to  accept  of  it,)  now  appearing 
in  the  majesty  of  his  glory,  and  descending  from  heaven 
in  a flaming  fire,  to  take  vengeance  on  those  who  have 
despised  his  mercy,  and  persisted  in  rebellion  against 
him ; when  all  the  hidden  things  of  darkness  shall  be 
brought  to  light,  and  the  counsels  of  all  hearts  shall  be 
made  manifest  when  those  secret  impurities  and  subtile 
frauds,  whereof  the  world  never  suspected  us,  shall  be 
exposed  and  laid  open  to  public  view,  and  many  thou- 
sand actions,  which  we  never  dreamed  to  be  sinful,  or 
else  had  altogether  forgotten,  shall  be  charged  home 
upon  our  conscience,  with  such  evident  conviction  of 
guilt,  that  we  shall  be  able  neither  to  deny  nor  excuse 
them.  Then  shall  all  the  angels  in  heaven,  and  all  the 
saints  that  ever  lived  on  earth,  approve  that  dreadful 
sentence  which  shall  be  passed  on  wicked  men  : and 
those  who  perhaps  loved  and  esteemed  them  when  they 
lived  in  the  world,  shall  look  upon  them  with  indigna- 
tion and  abhorrence,  and  never  make  one  request  for 
their  deliverance.  Let  us  consider  the  eternal  punish- 
ment of  damned  souls,  which  are  shadowed  forth  in 
Scripture,  by  metaphors  taken  from  those  things  that 
are  most  terrible  and  grievous  in  the  world,  and  yet  all 
insufficient  to  convey  any  full  apprehension  of  them  to 
our  mind.  When  we  have  joined  together  the  import 
of  all  these  expressions,  and  added  to  them  whatever 
our  fancy  can  conceive  of  misery  and  torment,  we  must 
still  remember,  that  all  this  comes  infinitely  short  of  the 
truth  and  reality  of  the  thing. 

It  is  true,  this  is  a sad  and  melancholy  subject,  there 
is  anguish  and  horror  in  the  consideration  of  it ; but 
surely  it  must  be  infinitely  more  dreadful  to  endure  it. 


* 2 Pet.  iii.  10. 


y 1 Cor.  iv.  5. 


55 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 

And  such  thoughts  as  these,  may  be  very  useful  to 
fright  us  from  the  courses,  which  would  lead  us  thither  : 
how  fond  soever  we  may  be  of  sinful  pleasures,  the  fear 
of  hell  would  make  us  abstain ; our  most  forward  incli- 
nations will  startle  and  give  back,  when  pressed  with 
that  question  in  the  prophet : “ Who  amongst  us  can 
dwell  with  everlasting  burnings  ?”z 

To  this  very  purpose  it  is,  that  the  terrors  of  another 
world  are  so  frequently  represented  in  holy  writ ; and 
that,  in  such  terras  as  are  most  proper  to  affect  and 
influence  a carnal  mind.  These  fears  can  never  suffice 
to  make  any  person  truly  good  ; but,  certainly,  they 
may  restrain  us  from  much  evil,  and  have  often  made 
way  for  more  ingenuous  and  kindly  impressions. 

WE  MUST  KEEP  A CONSTANT  WATCH  OVER  OURSELVES. 

But  it  will  not  suffice  to  consider  these  things  once 
and  again ; nor  to  form  some  resolutions  of  abandoning 
our  sins,  unless  we  maintain  a constant  guard,  and  con- 
tinual watch  over  them.  Sometimes  the  mind  is  awa- 
kened to  see  the  dismal  consequences  of  a vicious  life, 
and  straight  we  are  resolved  to  reform  : but  alas  ! it 
presently  falls  asleep,  and  we  lose  that  prospect  which 
we  had  of  things,  and  then  temptations  take  the  advan- 
tage ; they  solicit  and  importune  us  continually,  and  fre- 
quently engage  our  consent,  before  we  are  aware.  It  is 
the  folly  and  ruin  of  most  people,  to  live  at  peradven- 
ture,  and  to  take  part  in  every  thing  that  comes  in  their 
way ; seldom  considering  what  they  are  about  to  say  or 
do.  If  we  would  have  our  resolutions  take  effect,  we 
must  take  heed  unto  our  ways,  and  set  a watch  before 
the  door  of  our  lips,  and  examine  the  motions  that  arise 
in  our  hearts,  and  cause  them  to  tell  us  whence  they 
come,  and  whither  they  go  ; whether  it  be  pride  or  pas- 
sion, or  any  corrupt  and  vicious  humor,  that  prompts 
us  to  any  design ; and  whether  God  will  be  offended, 
or  any  body  harmed  by  it.  And,4f  we  have  no  time  for 
long  reasonings,  let  us,  at  least,  turn  our  eyes  toward 
God,  and  place  ourselves  in  his  presence,  to  ask  his 
leave  and  approbation  for  what  we  do : let  us  consider 
ourselves  under  the  all-seeing  eye  of  that  divine  Ma-^ 


* Isaiah  xxxiii.  14. 


56  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

jesty  ; as  in  the  midst  of  an  infinite  globe  of  light,  which 
compasseth  us  about  both  behind  and  before,  and  pierc- 
eth  to  the  innermost  corners  of  our  souls.  The  sense 
and  remembrance  of  the  Divine  presence,  is  the  most 
ready  and  effectual  means,  both  to  discover  what  is  un- 
lawful, and  to  restrain  us  from  it.  There  are  some 
things  which  a person  could  make  shift  to  palliate  or 
defend,  and  yet  he  dares  not  look  Almighty  God  in  the 
face,  and  adventure  upon  them.  If  we  look  unto  him, 
we  shall  be  enlightened;  if  we  “set  him  always  before 
us,  he  will  guide  us  by  his  eye,  and  instruct  us  in  the 
way  wherein  we  ought  to  walk.” 

WE  MUST  OFTEN  EXAMINE  OUR  ACTIONS. 

This  care  and  watchfulness  over  our  actions,  must  be 
seconded  by  frequent  and  serious  reflections  upon  them  ; 
not  only,  that  we  may  obtain  the  divine  mercy  and  par- 
don for  our  sins,  by  an  humble  and  sorrowful  acknow- 
ledgment of  them,  but  also,  that  we  may  reinforce  and 
strengthen  our  resolutions,  and  learn  to  decline  or  resist 
the  temptations  by  which  we  have  been  formerly  foiled. 
It  is  an  advice  worthy  of  a Christian,  though  it  first 
dropped  from  a Heathen  pen  ; ‘ That,  before  we  betake 
ourselves  to  rest,  we  review  and  examine  all  the  pas- 
sages of  the  day ; that  we  may  have  the  comfort  of 
what  we  have  done  aright,  and  may  redress  what  we  find 
to  have  been  amiss,  and  make  the  shipwrecks  of  one 
day,  be  as  marks  to  direct  our  course  in  another.’^  This 
may  be  called  the  very  art  of  virtuous  living,  and  would 
contribute  wonderfully  to  advance  our  reformation,  and 
preserve  our  innocency.  But,  withal,  we  must  not  for- 
get to  implore  the  Divine  assistance  ; especially  against 
those  sins  that  most  easily  beset  us  : and,  though  it  be 
supposed  that  our  hearts  are  not  yet  moulded  into  that 
spiritual  frame  which  should  render  our  devotions  ac- 
ceptable,— yet,  methinks,  such  considerations  as  have 


‘ “ Each  night,  ere  needful  slumber  seal  thine  eyes, 

Home  to  thy  soul  let  these  reflections  rise  : 

How  has  this  day  my  duty  seen  express’d  ? 

What  have  I done,  omitted,  or  transgress’d  'I 
Then  grieve  the  moments  thou  hast  idly  spent : 

The  rest  will  yield  thee  comfort  and  content.’* 

Golden  Verses  of  Pythagoras, — Ed. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  57 

been  proposed  to  deter  us  from  sin  may  also  stir  us  up 
to  some  natural  seriousness,  and  make  our  prayers 
against  it  as  earnest,  at  least,  as  they  are  wont  to  be 
against  other  calamities  ; and  I doubt  not  but  God,  who 
heareth  the  cry  of  the  ravens,  will  have  some  regard 
even  to  such  petitions  as  proceed  from  those  natural 
passions  which  himself  hath  implanted  in  us.  Besides, 
those  prayers  against  sin  will  be  powerful  engagements 
on  ourselves,  to  excite  us  to  watchfulness  and  care ; and 
common  ingenuousness  will  make  us  ashamed  to  relapse 
into  those  faults  which  we  have  lately  bewailed  before 
God,  and  against  which  we  have  begged  his  assistance. 

IT  IS  FIT  TO  RESTRAIN  OURSELVES  IN  MANY  LAWFUL 
THINGS. 

Thus  are  we  to  make  the  first  essay  for  recovering 
the  divine  life,  by  restraining  the  natural  inclinations, 
that  they  break  not  out  into  sinful  practices.  But  I 
must  add,  that  Christian  prudence  will  teach  us  to  ab- 
stain from  gratifications  that  are  not  simply  unlawful : 
and  that,  not  only  that  we  may  secure  our  innocence, 
which  would  be  in  continual  hazard  if  we  should  restrain 
our  liberty  to  the  utmost  point, — but  also,  that  hereby 
we  may  weaken  the  forces  of  nature,  and  teach  our 
appetites  to  obey.  We  must  do  with  ourselves  as  pru- 
dent parents  with  their  children ; who  cross  their  wills 
in  many  little  indifferent  things,  to  make  them  manage- 
able and  submissive  In  more  considerable  instances.  He 
who  would  mortify  the  pride  and  vanity  of  his  spirit, 
should  stop  his  ears  to  the  most  deserved  praises  ; and 
sometimes  forbear  his  just  vindication  from  the  censures 
and  aspersions  of  others,  especially  if  they  reflect  only 
upon  his  prudence  and  conduct,  and  not  on  his  virtue 
and  innocence.  He  who  would  check  a revengeful  hu- 
mor, will  do  well  to  deny  himself  the  satisfaction  of 
representing  unto  others  the  injuries  which  he  has  sus- 
tained ; and  if  we  would  so  take  heed  to  our  ways  that 
we  sin  not  with  our  tongue,  we  must  accustom  our- 
selves much  to  solitude  and  silence,  and  sometimes,  with 
the  Psalmist,  “ hold  our  peace  even  from  good,”  till  we 
have  obtained  some  command  over  that  unruly  member. 
Thus,  I say,  we  may  bind  up  our  natural  inclinations, 
and  make  our  appetites  more  moderate  in  their  cravings. 


58  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

by  accustoming  them  to  frequent  refusals.  But  it  is  not 
enough  to  have  them  under  violence  and  restraint : 

WE  MUST  STRIVE  TO  PUT  OURSELVES  OUT  OF  LOVE  WITH 
THE  WORLD. 

Our  next  essay  must  be  to  wean  our  affections  from 
created  things,  and  from  all  the  delights  and  entertain- 
ments of  the  lower  life,  which  sink  and  depress  the 
souls  of  men,  and  retard  their  motions  towards  God  and 
heaven.  And  this  we  must  do  by  possessing  our  minds 
with  a deep  persuasion  of  the  vanity  and  emptiness  of 
worldly  enjoyments.  This  is  an  ordinary  theme,  and 
every  body  can  make  declamations  upon  it.  But,  alas ! 
how  few  understand  and  believe  what  they  say.  These 
notions  float  in  our  brains,  and  come  sliding  off  our 
tongues,  but  we  have  no  deep  impression  of  them  on 
our  spirits.  We  feel  not  the  truth  which  we  pretend  to 
believe.  We  can  tell,  that  all  the  glory  and  splencTor, 
all  the  pleasures  and  enjoyments  of  the  world,  are  vanity 
and  nothing;  and  yet  these  nothings  take  up  all  our 
thoughts,  and  engross  all  our  affections ; they  stifle  the 
better  inclinations  of  our  soul,  and  inveigle  us  into  many 
a sin.  It  may  be,  in  a sober  mood,  we  give  them  the 
slight,  and  resolve  to  be  no  longer  deluded  with  them ; 
but  these  thoughts  seldom  outlive  the  next  temptation ; 
the  vanities  which  we  have  shut  out  at  the  door,  get  in 
at  a postern ; there  are  still  some  pretensions,  some 
hopes  that  flatter  us  ; and,  after  we  have  been  frustrated 
a thousand  times,  we  must  continually  be  repeating  the 
experiment : the  least  difference  of  circumstance  is 
enough  to  delude  us,  and  make  us  expect  that  satisfac- 
tion in  one  thing,  which  we  have  missed  in  another ; 
but  could  we  once  come  to  a real  and  serious  contempt  of 
worldly  things,  this  were  a very  considerable  advance- 
ment in  our  way.  The  soul  of  man  is  of  a vigorous 
and  active  nature,  and  has  in  it  a raging  and  inextin- 
guishable thirst,  an  immaterial  kind  of  fire,  always 
catching  at  some  object  or  other,  in  conjunction  with 
which  it  expects  to  be  happy ; and,  were  it  once  rent 
from  the  world,  and  from  all  the  bewitching  enjoyments 
under  the  sun,  it  would  quickly  search  after  some  higher 
and  more  excellent  object  to  satisfy  its  ardent  and  im- 
portunate cravings ; and,  being  no  longer  dazzled  with 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 


59 


glittering  vanities,  it  would  fix  on  that  supreme  and 
all-sufficient  good,  where  it  would  discover  such  beauty 
and  sweetness,  as  would  charm  and  overpower  all  its 
affections.  The  love  of  the  world,  and  the  love  of  God, 
are  like  the  scales  of  a balance  ; as  the  one  falls,  the 
other  rises  : when  our  natural  inclinations  prosper,  and 
the  creature  is  exalted  in  our  soul,  religion  is  faint,  and 
languishes ; but  when  earthly  objects  wither  away,  and 
lose  their  beauty,  and  when  the  soul  begins  to  flag  in 
its  prosecution  of  them,  then  the  seeds  of  grace  take 
root,  and  the  divine  life  begins  to  flourish  and  prevail. 
It,  therefore,  nearly  concerns  us,  to  convince  ourselves 
of  the  emptiness  and  vanity  of  creature-enjoyments, 
and  to  reason  our  hearts  out  of  love  with  them : let  us 
seriously  consider  all  that  our  reason,  or  our  faith,  our 
own  experience,  or  the  observations  of  others,  can 
suggest  to  this  effect ; let  us  ponder  the  matter  over 
and  over,  and  fix  our  thoughts  on  this  truth,  till  we  be- 
come really  persuaded  of  it.  Amidst  all  our  pursuits 
and  designs,  let  us  stop  and  ask  ourselves.  For  what  end 
is  all  this?  At  what  do  I aim?  Can  the  gross  and 
muddy  pleasures  of  sense,  or  a heap  of  white  and  yel- 
low earth,  or  the  esteem  and  affection  of  silly  creatures 
like  myself,  satisfy  a rational  and  immortal  soul?  Have 
I not  tried  these  things  already?  Will  they  have  a 
higher  relish,  and  yield  me  more  contentment  to-mor- 
row than  yesterday ; or  the  next  year,  than  they  did 
the  last  ? There  may  be  some  little  difference  between 
that  which  I am  now  pursuing  and  that  which  I enjoyed 
before ; but  sure  my  former  enjoyments  appeared  as 
pleasant,  and  promised  as  fair,  before  I attained  them ; 
like  the  rainbow,  they  look  very  glorious  at  a distance, 
but  when  I approached  I found  nothing  but  emptiness 
and  vapor.^  Oh  what  a poor  thing  would  the  life  of  man 
be,  if  it  were  capable  of  no  higher  enjoyments! 

I cannot  insist  on  this  subject,  and  there  is  the  less 
need  when  I remember  to  whom  I am  writing.  Yes, 


b “As  yon  summits  soft  and  fair, 

Clad  in  colors  of  the  air, 

Which,  to  those  who  journey  near, 

Barren,  brown,  and  rough  appear ; 

Still  we  tread  the  same  coarse  wa}^. 

The  present ’s  still  a cloudy  day.” — ’Dyer. — Ed. 


60  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

my  dear  friend,  you  have  had  as  great  experience  of  the 
emptiness  and  vanity  of  human  things,  and  have  at  pre- 
sent as  few  worldly  engagements,  as  any  that  I know. 
I have  sometimes  reflected  on  those  passages  of  your 
life  with  which  you  have  been  pleased  to  acquaint  me ; 
and  methinks,  through  all  I can  discern  a design  of  the 
divine  Providence  to  wean  your  affections  from  every 
thing  here  below.  The  trials  which  you  have  had  of 
those  things  which  the  world  doats  upon,  have  taught 
you  to  despise  them ; and  you  have  found  by  experience, 
that  neither  the  endowments  of  nature,  nor  the  ad- 
vantages of  fortune,  are  sufficient  for  happiness  ; that 
every  rose  has  its  thorn,  and  there  may  be  a worm  at 
the  root  of  the  fairest  gourd;  some  secret  and  undis- 
cerned grief,  which  may  make  a person  deserve  the  pity 
of  those  who,  perhaps,  admire  or  envy  their  supposed 
felicity.  If  any  earthly  comforts  have  got  too  much 
of  your  heart,  I think  they  have  been  your  relations 
and  friends ; and  the  dearest  of  t^iese  are  removed  out 
of  the  world,  so  that,  when  you  would  think  upon  them, 
you  must  raise  your  mind  toward  heaven.  Thus  God 
has  provided,  that  your  heart  may  be  loosed  from  the 
world,  and  that  he  may  not  have  any  rival  in  your  affec- 
. tion ; which  I have  always  observed  to  be  so  large  and 
unbounded,  so  noble  and  disinterested,  that  no  inferior 
object  can  answer  or  deserve  it. 

WE  MUST  DO  THOSE  OUTWARD  ACTIONS  THAT  ARE 
COMMANDED. 

When  we  have  got  our  corruptions  restrained,  and 
our  natural  appetites  and  inclinations  towards  worldly 
things  in  some  measure  subdued,  we  must  proceed  to 
such  exercises  as  have  a more  immediate  tendency  to 
excite  and  awaken  the  divine  life.  And  first,  let  us  en- 
deavor conscientiously  to  perform  those  duties,  which 
religion  requires,  and  to  which  it  would  incline  us  if  it 
prevailed  in  our  souls.  If  we  cannot  get  our  inward 
disposition  presently  changed,  let  us  study  at  least,  to 
regulate  our  outward  deportment.  If  our  hearts  be  not 
yet  inflamed  with  divine  love,  let  us,  however,  own  our 
allegiance  to  that  infinite  Majesty,  by  attending  his  ser- 
vice and  listening  to  his  word  ; by  speaking  reverently 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  61 

of  his  name,  and  praising  his  goodness,  and  exhorting 
others  to  serve  and  obey  him.  If  we  want  that  charity 
and  those  bowels  of  compassion,  which  we  ought  to 
have  towards  our  neighbors,  yet  must  we  not  omit  any 
occasion  of  doing  them  good.  If  our  hearts  be  haughty 
and  proud,  we  must,  nevertheless,  study  a modest  and 
humble  deportment.  These  external  performances  are 
of  little  value  in  themselves,  but  they  may  help  us  for- 
ward to  better  things.  The  apostle,  indeed,  tells  us, 
that  bodily  exercise  profiteth  little;  but  he  seems  not  to 
affirm  that  it  is  altogether  useless.  It  is  always  good 
to  be  doing  what  we  can,  for  then  God  is  wont  to  pity 
our  weakness,  and  assist  our  feeble  endeavors.  And 
when  true  charity  and  humility,  and  other  graces  of  the 
Divine  Spirit,  come  to  take,  root  in  our  souls,  they 
will  exert  themselves  more  freely,  and  with  less  difficulty 
if  we  have  before  been  accustomed  to  express  them  in  our 
outward  conversation.  Nor  need  we  fear  the  imputation 
of  hypocrisy,  though  our  actions  do  thus*somewhat  out- 
run our  affections  ; since  they  still  proceed  from  a sense 
of  our  duty  ; and  since  our  design  is,  not  to  appear  bet- 
ter than  we  are,  but  that  we  may  really  become  so. 

WE  MUST  ENDEAVOR  TO  FORM  INTERNAL  ACTS  OF 
DEVOTION,  CHARITY,  ETC. 

But  as  inward  acts  have  a more  immediate  influence 
on  the  soul  to  mould  it  to  a right  temper  and  frame,  so 
ought  we  to  be  most  frequent  and  sedulous  in  the  exer- 
cise of  them.  Let  us  be  often  lifting  up  our  hearts  to- 
wards God  ; and  if  we  do  not  say  that  we  love  him 
above  all  things,  let  us  at  least  acknowledge  that  it  is 
our  duty,  and  would  be  our  happiness,  to  do  so  ; let  us 
lament  the  dishonor  done  to  him  by  foolish  and  sinful 
men,  and  applaud  the  praises  and  adorations  that  are 
given  him  by  that  blessed  and  glorious  company  above  : 
let  us  resign  and  yield  ourselves  up  unto  him  a thousand 
times,  to  be  governed  by  his  laws,  and  disposed  of  at 
his  pleasure.  And,  though  our  stubborn  hearts  should 
start  back  and  refuse,  yet  let  us  tell  him  we  are  con- 
vinced that  his  will  is  always  just  and  good  ; and  let  us, 
therefore,  desire  him  to  do  with  us  whatsoever  he 
pleaseth,  whether  we  will  or  not.  And  so,  in  order  to 
6 


62  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL, 

beget  in  us  a universal  charity  towards  men,  we  must 
be  frequently  putting  up  wishes  for  their  happiness,  and 
blessing  every  person  that  we  see.  And  when  we  have 
done  any  thing  for  the  relief  of  the  miserable,  we  may 
second  it  with  earnest  desires,  that  God  would  take 
care  of  them  and  deliver  them  out  of  all  their  distresses. 

Thus  should  we  exercise  ourselves  unto  godliness. 
And  when  we  are  employing  the  powers  that  we  have, 
the  Spirit  of  God  is  wont  to  interfere,  and  elevate  these 
acts  of  our  soul  beyond  the  pitch  of  nature,  and  give 
them  a divine  impression:  and  after  the  frequent  reite- 
ration of  these,  we  shall  find  ourselves  more  inclined 
unto  them ; they  flowing  with  greater  freedom  and  ease- 

CONSIDERATION  A GREAT  INSTRUMENT  OF  RELIGION. 

I shall  mention  but  two  other  means  for  begetting 
that  holy  and  divine  temper  of  spirit,  which  is  the  sub- 
ject of  the  present  discourse.  And  the  first  is,  a deep 
and  serious  consideration  of  the  truths  of  our  religion  ; 
and  that,  both  as  to  their  certainty  and  importance. 
The  assent  which  is  ordinarily  given  to  divine  truths, 
is  very  faint  and  languid  ; very  weak  and  ineffectual ; 
flowing  only  from  a blind  inclination  to  follow  that  re- 
ligion which  is  in  fashion,  or  from  a lazy  indifierence 
and  unconcernedness  whether  things  be  so  or  not. 
Men  are  unwilling  to  quarrel  with  the  religion  of  their 
country  ; and  since  all  their  neighbors  are  Christians, 
they  are  content  to  be  so  too.  But  they  are  seldom  at 
the  pains  to  consider  the  evidences  of  those  truths,  or 
to  ponder  the  importance  and  tendency  of  them  ; and 
hence  it  is  that  they  have  so  little  influence  on  their 
affections  and  practice.  Those  spiritless  and  paralytic 
thoughts  (as  one  rightly  terms  them),  are  not  able  to 
move  the  will  and  direct  the  hand.  We  must,  therefore, 
endeavor  to  work  up  our  minds  to  a serious  belief  and 
full  persuasion  of  divine  truths  ; to  a sense  and  feeling 
of  spiritual  things.  Our  thoughts  must  dwell  upon 
them,  till  we  are  both  convinced  of  them  and  deeply 
affected  by  them.  Let  us  urge  forward  our  spirits,  and 
make  them  approach  the  invisible  world.  Let  us  fix 
our  minds  upon  immaterial  things,  till  we  clearly  per- 
ceive that  they  are  no  dreams;  nay,  that  all  things 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  63 

besides  them  are  but  dreams  and  shadows.  When  we 
look  about  us,  and  behold  the  beauty  and  magnificence 
of  this  goodly  frame,  the  order  and  harmony  of  the 
whole  creation, — let  our  thoughts  from  thence  take  their 
flight  towards  that  omnipotent  wisdom  and  goodness, 
which  first  produced,  and  which  still  establishes  and 
upholds  them.  When  we  reflect  upon  ourselves,  let  us 
consider  that  we  are  not  a mere  piece  of  organized 
matter ; a curious  and  well-contrived  engine  : that  there 
is  more  in  us  than  flesh,  blood,  and  bones  ; even  a di- 
vine spark,  capable  of  knoAving,  and  loving,  and  enjoy- 
ing our  Maker : and,  though  it  be  now  exceedingly 
clogged  with  its  dull  and  lumpish  companion,  yet  ere 
long  it  shall  be  delivered  ; and  shall  subsist  without  the 
body,  as  well  as  the  body  can  do  without  the  clothes 
which  we  throw  off  at  our  pleasure.  Let  us  often  with- 
draw our  thoughts  from  this  earth  ; this  scene  of  misery, 
folly,  and  sin  : and  let  us  raise  them  towards  that  more 
vast  and  glorious  world,  whose  innocent  and  blessed 
inhabitants  solace  themselves  eternally  in  the  Divine 
presence,  and  know  no  other  passion,  but  an  unmixed 
joy,  and  an  unbounded  love.  Let  us  consider  how  the 
blessed  Son  of  God  came  down  to  this  lower  world,  to 
live  among  us  and  to  die  for  us,  that  he  might  bring  us 
to  a portion  of  the  same  felicity  ; and  let  us  think  how 
he  hath  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death,  and  opened 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  believers,  and  is  now  set 
down  on  the  “ right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high,”*" — 
and  yet,  is  not  the  less  mindful  of  us,  but  receives  our 
prayers,  and  presents  them  to  his  Father ; and  is  daily 
visiting  his  Church  with  the  influences  of  his  Spirit,  as 
the  sun  reacheth  us  with  his  beams. 

TO  BEGET  DIVINE  LOVE,  WE  MUST  CONSIDER  THE 
EXCELLENCY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

The  serious  and  frequent  consideration  of  these  and 
such  divine  truths,  is  the  most  proper  method  to  beget 
that  lively  faith  which  is  the  foundation  of  religion,  the 
spring  and  root  of  the  divine  life.  Let  me  further  sug- 
gest some  particular  subjects  of  meditation,  for  pro- 
ducing the  several  branches  of  it,  And,  first,  to  inflame 


Hebrews  i.  3. 


64  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

our  souls  with  the  love  of  God,  let  us  consider  the 
excellency  of  his  nature  and  his  love  and  kindness  to- 
wards us.  It  is  little  we  know  of  the  Divine  perfection, 
and  yet  that  little  may  suffice  to  fill  our  souls  with 
admiration  and  love;  to  ravish  our  affections  as  well  as 
to  raise  our  wonder.  For  we  are  not  merely  creatures 
of  sense,  that  we  should  be  incapable  of  any  other 
affection  except  that  which  enters  by  the  eyes.  The 
character  of  an  excellent  person  whom  we  have  never 
seen,  will  many  times  engage  our  hearts  and  make  us 
greatly  concerned  in  all  his  interests.  And  what  is  it, 
I pray  you,  that  engages  us  so  much  to  those  with 
whom  we  converse  ? I cannot  think  that  it  is  merely 
the  color  of  their  face,  or  their  comely  proportions  ; 
for  then  we  should  fall  in  love  with  statues,  and  pic- 
tures, and  flowers.  These  outward  accomplishments 
may  a little  delight  the  eye,  but  would  never  be  able  to 
prevail  so  much  on  the  heart,  if  they  did  not  represent 
some  vital  perfection.  We  either  see  or  apprehend 
some  greatness  of  mind,  or  vigor  of  spirit,  or  sweetness 
of  disposition  ; some  sprightliness,  or  wisdom,  or  good- 
ness, which  charms  our  spirit,  and  commands  our  love* 
Now,  these  perfections  are  not  obvious  to  the  sight ; 
the  eyes  can  only  discern  their  signs  and  ‘effects  ; and, 
if  it  be  the  understanding  that  directs  the  affection,  and 
vital  perfections  prevail  with  it,  certainly  the  excellen- 
ces of  the  Divine  nature  (the  traces  of  which  we  cannot 
but  discover  in  every  thing  we  behold),  would  not  fail 
to  engage  our  hearts,  if  we  seriously  viewed  and  re- 
garded them.  Shall  we  not  be  infinitely  more  trans- 
ported with  that  Almighty  wisdom  and  goodness  which 
fills  the  universe,  and  displays  itself  in  all  the  parts  of 
creation  ; which  establishes  the  frame  of  nature,  and 
turns  the  mighty  wheels  of  providence,  and  keeps  the 
world  from  disorder  and  ruin, — than  with  the  faint  rays 
of  the  same  perfections  which  we  meet  with  in  our 
fellow-creatures?  Shall  we  doat  on  the  scattered  pieces 
of  a rude  and  imperfect  picture,  and  never  be  affected 
with  the  original  beauty?  This  were  an  unaccountable 
stupidity  and  blindness.  Whatever  we  find,  lovely  in  a 
friend,  or  in  a saint,  ought  not  to  engross,  but  elevate 
our  affection.  We  should  conclude  with  ourselves, 
that  if  there  be  so  much  sweetness  in  a drop,  there 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  65 

must  be  infinitely  more  in  the  fountain ; if  there  be  so 
much  splendor  in  a ray,  what  must  the  sun  be  in  its 
glory  ? 

Nor  can  we  pretend  the  remoteness  of  the  object,  as 
if  God  were  at  too  great  a distance  for  our  converse  or 
our  love : “ He  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  uS : for  in 
him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being.”^^  We 
cannot  open  our  eyes,  but  we  must  behold  some  foot- 
steps of  his  glory  ; and  cannot  turn  them  towards  him, 
but  we  shall  be  sure  to  find  his  intent  upon  us  ; waiting, 
as  it  were,  to  catch  a look,  ready  to  entertain  with  us 
the  most  intimate  fellowship  and  communion.  Let  us, 
therefore,  endeavor  to  raise  our  minds  to  the  clearest 
conceptions  of  the  divine  nature.  Let  us  consider  all 
that  his  works  declare,  or  his  word  discovers,  of  him 
unto  us;  and  let  us,  especially,  contemplate  that  visible 
representation  of  him  which  was  made  in  our  own  na- 
ture by  his  Son  ; who  was  the  “ brightness  of  his  glory, 
and  the  express  image  of  his  person,”®  and  who  ap- 
peared in  the  world  to  discover  at  once  what  God  is, 
and  what  we  ought  to  be.  Let  us  represent  him  to  our 
minds  as  we  find  him  described  in  the  Gospel : and 
there  we  shall  behold  the  perfections  of  the  Divine  na- 
ture, though  covered  with  the  veil  of  human  infirmities  ; 
and,  when  we  have  framed  unto  ourselves  the  clearest 
notion  that  we  can,  of  a being  infinite  in  power,  in  wis- 
dom, and  goodness,  the  author  and  fountain  of  all  per- 
fections,— let  us  fix  the  eyes  of  our  soul  upon  it,  that 
our  eyes  may  affect  our  heart,^  and  while  we  are  musing 
the  fire  will  burn.^ 

WE  SHOULD  MEDITATE  ON  GOD’s  GOODNESS  AND  LOVE. 

Especially,  if  hereunto  we  add  the  consideration  of 
God’s  favor  and  good-will  towards  us  : nothing  is  more 
powerful  to  engage  our  affection,  than  to  find  that  we 
are  beloved.  Expressions  of  kindness  are  always  pleas- 
ing and  acceptable,  though  the  person  should  be  other- 
wise mean  and  contemptible:  but,  to  have  the  love  of 
one  who  is  altogether  lovely,  to  know  that  the  glorious 
Majesty  of  heaven  hath  any  regard  unto  us,  how  must 
it  astonish  and  delight  us  ! how  must  it  overcome  our 

d Acts  xvii.  27.  ® Heb.  i,  3,  f Lam.  iii,  51.  e Psalm  xxxix.  31, 


66  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOTJGAL, 

spirits  and  melt  our  hearts,  and  put  our  whole  soul 
into  a flame ! Now,  as  the  word  of  God  is  full  of  the 
expressions  of  his  love  towards  man,  so  all  his  works 
most  loudly  proclaim  it ; he  gave  us  our  being,  and,  by 
preserving  us  in  being,  renews  the  donation  every  mo- 
ment. He  has  placed  us  in  a rich  and  well-furnished 
world,  and  liberally  provided  for  all  our  necessities  ; he 
rains  down  blessings  from  heaven  upon  us,  and  causes 
the  earth  to  bring  forth  our  provision  ; he  gives  us  our 
food  and  raiment,  and,  while  we  are  spending  the  pro- 
ductions of  one  year,  he  is  preparing  for  us  against 
another.  He  sweetens  our  lives  with  innumerable  com- 
forts, and  gratifies  every  faculty  with  suitable  objects  ^the 
eye  of  his  providence  is  always  upon  us,  and  he  watches 
for  our  safety  when  we  are  fast  asleep,  neither  minding 
him  nor  ourselves.  But,  lest  we  should  think  these 
testimonies  of  his  kindness  less  considerable  because 
they  are  the  easy  issues  of  his  omnipotent  power,  and 
do  not  put  him  to  any  trouble  or  pain, — he  has  taken  a 
more  wonderful  method  to  endear  himself  to  us;  he  has 
testified  his  affection  to  us  by  suffering  as  well  as  by 
doing  ; and,  because  he  could  not  suffer  in  his  own  na- 
ture, he  assumed  ours.  The  eternal  Son  of  God  clothed 
himself  with  the  infirmities  of  our  flesh,  and  left  the 
company  of  those  innocent  and  blessed  spirits,  who 
knew^  well  how  to  love  and  adore  him,  that  he  might 
dwell  among  men,  and  wrestle  with  the  obstinacy  of  that 
rebellious  race,  to  reduce  them  to  their  allegiance  and 
felicity,  and  then  to  offer  himself  up  as  a sacrifice  and 
propitiation  for  them.  I remember  one  of  the  poets 
has  an  ingenious  fancy  to  express  the  passion,  by  which, 
after  a long  resistance,  he  found  himself  overcome : 
‘That  the  god  of  love  had  shot  all  his  golden  arrows  at 
him,  but  could  never  pierce  his  heart ; till,  at  length,  he 
put  himself  into  the  bow  and  darted  himself  straight 
into  his  breast.’^  Methinks,  this,  in  some  measure, 
adumbrates  God’s  method  of  dealing  with  men.  He 
had  long  contended  with  a stubborn  world,  and  thrown 

h 'iis  6'  OVK  ET'  El'X^  oi'crrou?, 

Tjd^aWeVj  £(6’  iavTov 
j a(pr}K£v  CIS  (ieXefjivovj 

fxtcog  6c  Kapdirjg  pov 
tdvvCj  Kai  p’  eXvae. 

Anacreon.  Ode  xiv. — Ed. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  67 

down  many  a blessing  upon  them  ; and  when  all  his 
other  gifts  could  not  prevail,  he  at  last  made  a gift  of 
himself,  to  testify  his  affection,  and  engage  theirs.  The 
account  which  we  have  of  our  Saviour’s  life  in  the 
Gospel,  all  along  presents  us  with  the  story  of  his  love; 
all  the  pains  that  he  took,  and  the  troubles  that  he  en- 
dured, w^ere  the  wonderful  effects,  and  uncontrollable 
evidences  of  it.  But  oh  that  last,  that  dismal  scene  ! Is 
it  possible  to  remember  it,  and  question  his  kindness, 
or  deny  him  ours  ? Here,  here  it  is,  my  dear  friend,  that 
we  should  fix  our  most  serious  and  solemn  thoughts : 
“that  Christ  may  dwell  in  our  hearts  by  faith  ; that 
we,  being  rooted  and  grounded  in  love,  may  be  able  to 
comprehend  with  all  saints,  what  is  the  breadth,  and 
length,  and  depth,  and  height ; and  to  know  the  love  of 
Christ  which  passeth  knowledge,  that  we  may  be  filled 
with  all  the  fulness  of  God.”' 

We  ought,  also,  frequently  to  reflect  on  those  particu- 
lar tokens  of  favor  and  love,  which  God  has  bestowed 
on  ourselves  ; how  long  he  has  borne  with  our  follies 
and  sins,  and  waited  to  be  gracious  unto  us ; wrestling, 
as  it  were,  with  the  stubbornness  of  our  hearts,  and 
essaying  every  method  to  reclaim  us.  We  should  keep 
a register  in  our  minds,  of  all  the  eminent  blessings  and 
deliverances  which  we  have  experienced ; some  of  which 
have  been  so  conveyed,  that  we  might  clearly  perceive 
them  not  to  be  the  mere  issues  of  chance,  but  gracious 
effects  of  the  divine  favor,  and  signal  returns  of  our 
prayers.  Nor  ought  we  to  imbitter  the  thoughts  of 
these  things,  with  any  harsh  or  unworthy  suspicion,  as 
if  they  were  designed  on  purpose  to  enhance  our  guilt, 
and  heighten  our  eternal  damnation.  No,  no,  my  friend, 
God  is  love,  and  he  hath  no  pleasure  in  the  ruin  of  his 
creatures  : if  they  abuse  his  goodness,  and  turn  his 
grace  into  wantonness,  and  hereby  plunge  themselves 
into  the  greater  depths  of  guilt  and  misery,  this  is  the 
effect  of  their  obstinate  v/ickedness,  and  not  the  design 
of  those  benefits  which  he  bestows. 

If  these  considerations  had  once  begotten  in  our 
hearts  a real  love  and  affection  towards  Almighty  God, 
that  would  easily  lead  us  unto  the  other  branches  of 


i Eph.  iii.  17-19. 


68  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

religion,  and  therefore  I shall  need  to  say  the  less  of 
them. 

TO  BEGET  CHARITY,  WE  MUST  REMEMBER  THAT  ALL 
MEN  ARE  NEARLY  RELATED  UNTO  GOD. 

We  shall  find  our  hearts  enlarged  in  charity  towards 
men,  by  considering  the  relation  which  they  bear  to 
God,  and  the  impresses  of  his  image,  which  are  stamped 
upon  them.  They  are  not  only  his  creatures,  the  work- 
manship of  his  hands,  but  his  resemblances,  of  whom 
he  takes  special  care,  and  for  whom  he  has  a very  dear 
and  tender  regard  ; having  laid  the  design *of  their  hap- 
piness before  the  foundations  of  the  world,  and  being 
willing  to  live  and  converse  with  them  to  all  the  ages 
of  eternity.  The  meanest  and  most  contemptible  per- 
son whom  we  behold,  is  the  offspring  of  heaven,  one  of 
the  children  of  the  Most  High ; and,  however  unwor- 
thily of  that  relation  he  may  behave  himself,  so  long  as 
God  hath  not  disowned  him  by  a final  sentence  he  will 
have  us  to  acknowledge  him  as  one  of  His,  and,  as  such, 
to  embrace  him  with  a sincere  and  cordial  affection. 
You  know  what  a great  interest  we  are  wont  to  have 
for  those  who,  in  any  way,  belong  to  the  person  whom 
we  love  ; how  gladly  we  lay  hold  on  every  opportunity 
to  gratify  the  child  or  servant  of  a friend ; and  surely 
our  love  toward  God  would  as  naturally  spring  forth  in 
charity  toward  men,  were  we  mindful  of  the  interest 
that  he  is  pleased  to  take  in  them ; and  did  we  consider, 
that  every  soul  is  dearer  unto  him  than  all  the  material 
world ; and  that  he  did  not  account  the  blood  of  his 
Son  too  great  a price  for  their  redemption. 

THAT  THEY  CARRY  GOD’s  IMAGE  UPON  THEM. 

Again  ; as  all  men  stand  in  a near  relation  to  God, 
so  they  have  still  so  much  of  his  image  stamped 
upon  them,  as  may  oblige  and  excite  us  to  love  them ; 
in  some  this  image  is  more  eminent  and  conspicuous, 
and  we  can  discern  the  lovely  traces  of  wisdom  and 
goodness;  and  though,  in  others,  it  is  miserably  sullied 
and  defaced,  yet  it  is  not  altogether  erased ; some 
lineaments,  at  least,  still  remain. ”j  All  men  are  en- 


j ‘ Yet  the  human  mind,  however  stunned  and  weakened  by  its 
dreadful  fall,  still  retains  some  faint  idea,  some  confused  and  obscure 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  69 

dued  with  rational  and  immortal  souls,  with  under- 
standings and  wills  capable  of  the  highest  and  most  ex- 
cellent things ; and  if  they  be,  at  present,  disordered 
and  put  out  of  tune  by  wickedness  and  folly,  this  may, 
indeed,  move  our  compassion,  but  ought  not,  in  reason, 
to  extinguish  our  love.  When  we  see  a person  in  a 
rugged  humor  and  perverse  disposition ; full  of  malice 
and  dissimulation ; very  foolish  and  very  proud, — it  is 
hard  to  fall  in  love  with  an  object  that  presents  itself 
unto  us  under  an  idea  so  little  grateful  and  lovely. 
But,  when  we  shall  consider  these  evil  qualities  as  the 
diseases  and  distempers  of  a soul,  which,  in  itself,  is 
capable  of  all  that  wisdom  and  goodness  with  which 
the  best  of  saints  have  ever  been  adorned  ; and  which 
may,  one  day,  be  raised  unto  such  heights  of  perfec- 
tion, as  shall  render  it  a fit  companion  for  the  holy 
angels, — this  will  turn  our  aversion  into  pity,  and  make 
us  behold  him  with  such  feelings  as  we  should  have 
when  we  look  upon  a beautiful  body  that  was  mangled 
with  wounds,  or  disfigured  by  some  loathsome  disease ; 
and,  however  we  hate  the  vices,  we  shall  not  cease  to 
love  the  man. 

TO  BEGET  PURITY,  WE  SHOULD  CONSIDER  THE  DIGNITY 
OF  OUR  NATURE. 

In  the  next  place,  for  purifying  our  souls,  and  disen- 
tangling our  affections  from  the  pleasures  and  enjoy- 
ments of  this  lower  life,  let  us  frequently  ponder  the 
excellency  and  dignity  of  our  nature ; and  think,  what 
a shameful  and. unworthy  thing  it  is,  for  so  noble  and 
divine  a creature  as  the  soul  of  man  to  be  sunk  and  im- 
mersed in  brutish  and  sensual  desires,  or  amused  with  airy 
and  fantastical  delights,  and  so  to  lose  the  relish  of  solid 
and  spiritual  pleasures  ; that  the  beast  should  be  fed  and 
pampered  in  us,  and  the  man  and  the  Christian  be 
starved.  Did  we  but  consider  who  we  are,  and  for 
what  we  were  made,  this  would  teach  us,  in  a right 


notions,  of  the  good  it  has  lost,  and  some  remaining  seeds  of  its  heavenly 
original, — cognati  semina  coeli.’ — Abp.  Leighton,  Prelect,  ii. 

‘ The  image  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man,  is  not  so  thoroughly  defaced 
by  the  stain  of  earthly  affections,  that  some  extreme  lineaments,  as  it 
were,  do  not  remain  upon  it.’ — S.  August.  Tom.  x.  p.  3. — Ed. 


70  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

sense,  to  reverence  and  stand  in  awe  of  ourselves  it 
would  beget  a modesty  and  shamefacedness,  and  make 
us  very  shy  and  reserved,  in  the  use  of  the  most  inno- 
cent and  allowable  pleasures. 

WE  SHOULD  MEDITATE  OFTEN  ON  THE  JOYS  OF  HEAVEN. 

It  will  be  very  effectual  to  the  same  purpose,  that  we 
frequently  raise  our  minds  toward  heaven,  and  repre- 
sent to  our  thoughts,  the  joys  that  are  at  God’s  right 
hand,  “ those  pleasures  that  endure  for  evermore  ; — for 
every  man  that  hath  this  hope  in  him,  purifieth  himself, 
even  as  he  is  pure.”^  If  our  heavenly  country  be  much 
in  our  thoughts,  it  will  make  us,  “ as  strangers  and  pil- 
grims, abstain  from  fleshly  lusts  which  war  against  the 
soul,  and  keep  ourselves  unspotted  from  this  world,”™ 
that  we  may  be  fit  for  the  enjoyments  and  felicities  of 
the  other.  But  then  we  must  see  to  it,  that  our  notions 
of  heaven  be  not  gross  and  carnal,  that  we  dream  not 
' of  a Mahometan  paradise,  nor  rest  on  those  metaphors 
and  similitudes,  by  which  these  joys  are  sometimes 
represented ; for  this  might,  perhaps,  have  quite  a con- 
trary effect : it  might  entangle  us  further  in  carnal  af- 
fections, and  we  should  be  ready  to  indulge  ourselves  in 
a very  liberal  foretaste  of  those  pleasures,  wherein  we 
had  placed  our  everlasting  felicity.  But,  when  we  come 
once  to  conceive  aright  of  those  pure  and  spiritual 
pleasures  ; when  the  happiness  we  propose  to  ourselves, 
is  from  the  sight,  and  love,  and  enjoyment  of  God  ; and 
when  our  minds  are  filled  with  the  hopes  and  fore- 
thoughts of  that  blessed  estate ; oh  how  mean  and 
contemptible  will  all  things  here  below  appear  in  our 
eyes  ! With  what  disdain  shall  we  reject  the  gross  and 
muddy  pleasures  that  would  deprive  us  of  those  celes- 
tial enjoyments,  or,  in  any  way,  unfit  and  indispose  us 
for  them ! 

HUMILITY  ARISES  FROM  THE  CONSIDERATION  OF  OUR 
FAILINGS. 

The  last  branch  of  religion  is  humility,  and  surely  we 
can  never  want  matter  of  consideration  for  begetting 


k MaXicra  5’  aic)(yveo  aavrov. 

Especially  reverence  thyself. — Pythag. — Ed. 
I 1 John  iii.  3.  ™ 1 Pet.  ii.  11. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  71 

it.  All  our  wickednesses  and  imperfections,  all  our 
follies  and  our  sins,  may  help  to  pull  down  that  fond 
and  overweening  conceit,  which  we  are  apt  to  entertain 
of  ourselves.  That  which  makes  any  body  esteem  us, 
is  their  knowledge  or  apprehension  of  some  little  good, 
and  their  ignorance  of  a great  deal  of  evil,  that  may  be 
in  pur  character ; were  they  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
us,  they  would  quickly  change  their  opinion.  The 
thoughts  which,  in  the  best  and  most  serious  day  of  our 
life,  pass  in  our  heart,  if  exposed  to  public  view  would 
render  us  either  hateful  or  ridiculous  : and  now,  how- 
ever we  conceal  our  failings  from  one  another,  yet  surely 
we  are  conscious  of  them  ourselves  ; and  some  serious 
reflections  upon  them,  would  much  qualify  and  allay  the 
vanity  of  our  spirits.  Thus  holy  men  have  come  really 
to  think  worse  of  themselves  than  of  any  other  person 
in  the  world  : not  but  that  they  knew  that  gross  and 
scandalous  vices  are,  in  their  nature,  more  heinous  than 
the  surprisals  of  temptations  and  infirmity;  but,  because 
they  were  much  more  intent  on  their  own  miscarriages 
than  on  those  of  their  neighbors,  and  considered  all  the 
aggravations  of  the  one,  and  every  thing  that  might  be 
supposed  to  diminish  and  alleviate  the  other. 

THOUGHTS  OF  GOD  GIVE  US  THE  LOWEST  THOUGHTS  OF 
OURSELVES. 

But  it  is  well  observed  by  a pious  writer,  that  the 
deepest  and  most  pure  humility  does  not  so  much  arise 
from  the  consideration  of  our  own  faults  and  defects, 
as  from  a calm  and  quiet  contemplation  of  the  Divine 
purity  and  goodness.  Our  spots  never  appear  so 
clearly,  as  when  we  place  them  before  this  infinite  light; 
and  we  never  seem  less  in  our  own  eyes,  than  when  we 
look  down  upon  ourselves  from  on  high.  Oh  how  little, 
how  nothing,  do  all  those  shadows  of  perfection  then 
appear,  for  which  we  are  wont  to  value  ourselves.  That 
humility  which  comes  from  a view  of  our  own  sinfulness 
and  misery,  is  more  turbulent  and  boisterous ; but  the 
other  lays  us  full  as  low,  and  wants  nothing  but  that 
anguish  and  vexation  wherewith  our  souls  are  apt  to 
boil,  when  they  are  the  nearest  objects  of  our  thoughts. 


72  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

PRAYER  ANOTHER  INSTRUMENT  OF  RELIGION;  AND  THE 
ADVANTAGES  OF  MENTAL  PRAYER. 

There  remains  yet  another  means  for  begetting  a 
holy  and  religious  disposition  in  the  soul ; and  that  is, 
fervent  and  hearty  prayer.  Holiness  is  the  gift  of  God  ; 
indeed  the  greatest  gift  he  can  bestow,  or  we  are  capa- 
ble to  receive ; and  he  has  promised  his  Holy  Spirit  to 
those  that  ask  it  of  him.  In  prayer  we  make  the  nearest 
approaches  to  God,  and  lie  open  to  the  influences  of 
heaven : then  it  is,  that  the  sun  of  righteousness  visits 
us  with  his  directest  rays,  and  dissipates  our  darkness, 
and  imprints  his  image  on  our  souls.  I cannot  now 
insist  on  the  advantage  of  this  exercise,  or  the  dispo- 
sitions wherewith  it  ought  to  be  performed ; and  there 
is  no  need  that  I should,  there  being  so  many  books 
which  treat  on  this  subject.  I shall  only  tell  you,  that 
there  is  one  sort  of  prayer  wherein  we  make  use  of  the 
voice,  which  is  necessary  in  public,  and  may  sometimes 
have  its  own  advantage  in  private ; and  another,  wherein, 
though  we  utter  no  sound,  yet  we  conceive  the  expres- 
sions and  form  the  words,  as  it  were,  in  our  minds  ; but 
there  is  a third,  and  more  sublime  kind  of  prayer,  where- 
in the  soul  takes  a higher  flight ; and,  having  collected 
all  its  forces  by  long  and  serious  meditation,  darts  itself, 
if  I may  so  speak,  towards  God,  in  sighs,  and  groans, 
and  thoughts  too  big  for  expression.  As  when,  after  a 
deep  contemplation  of  the  Divine  perfections,  appear- 
ing in  all  his  works  of  wonder,  it  addresses  itself 
to  Him,  in  the  profoundest  adoration  of  his  majesty 
and  glory ; or  when,  after  sad  reflections  on  its  vile- 
ness and  miscarriages,  it  prostrates  itself  before  him, 
with  the  greatest  confusion  and  sorrow,  not  daring  to 
lift  up  its  eyes,  or  utter  one  word  in  his  presence  ; or 
when,  having  well  considered  the  beauty  of  holiness, 
and  the  unspeakable  felicity  of  those  that  are  truly  good, 
it  pants  after  God,  and  sends  up  such  vigorous  and 
ardent  desires,  as  no  words  can  sufficiently  express ; 
continuing  and  repeating  each  of  these  acts,  as  long  as 
it  finds  itself  upheld  by  the  force  and  impulse  of  the 
previous  meditation. 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  73 

This  mental  prayer  is,  of  all  other,  the  most  effectual 
to  purify  the  soul,  and. dispose  it  unto  a holy  and  reli- 
gious temper it  may  be  termed  the  great  secret  of  de- 
votion, and  one  of  the  most  powerful  instruments  of  the 
divine  life ; and  it  may  be,  the  apostle  hath  a peculiar 
respect  unto  it,  when  he  says,  that  “ the  Spirit  helpeth 
our  infirmities,  making  intercession  for  us  with  groan- 
ings  that  cannot  be  uttered or,  as  the  original  may 
bear,  that  cannot  he  worded.  Yet  I do  not  so  recom- 
mend this  sort  of  prayer  as  to  supersede  the  use  of  the 
other;  for  we  have  so  many  several  things  to  pray  for, 
and  every  petition  of  this  nature  requires  so  much  time, 
and  so  great  an  intention  of  spirit,  that  it  were  not 
easy  therein  to  overtake  them  all.  To  say  nothing  of 
the  fact,  that  the  deep  sighs  and  heavings  of  the  heart 
which  are  wont  to  accompany  it,  are  something  oppres- 
sive 10  nature,  and  make  it  hard  to  continue  long  in 

them.  But  certainly  a few  of  these  inward  aspirations 
will  do  more  than  a great  many  fluent  and  melting 
expressions. 

RELIGION  IS  TO  BE  ADVANCED  BY  THE  SAME  MEANS  BY 

WHICH  IT  IS  BEGUN,  AND  THE  USE  OF  THE  HOLY 

SACRAMENT  TOWARDS  IT. 

Thus,  my  dear  friend,  I have  briefly  proposed  the 
method  which  I judge  proper  for  moulding  the  soul 
into  a holy  frame.  And  the  same  means  which  serve 
to  get  this  divine  temper,  must  still  be  practised  for 
strengthening  and  advancing  it.  Therefore,  I shall 
recommend  but  one  more  for  that  purpose;  and 
that  is  the  frequent  and  conscientious  use  of  that 
holy  Sacrament,  which  is  peculiarly  appointed  to 
nourish  and  increase  the  spiritual  life,  when  once  it  is 
begotten  in  the  soul.  All  the  instruments  of  religion 
meet  together  in  this  ordinance  : and  while  we  address 
ourselves  to  it,  we  are  induced  to  practise  all  the  rules 
which  have  been  mentioned  before.  Then  it  is  that 
make  the  severest  survey  of  our  actions,  and  lay  the 
strictest  obligations  on  ourselves ; then  are  our  minds 
raised  to  the  highest  contempt  of  the  world,  and  every 
grace  exercises  itself  with  the  greatest  advantage  ; and 

then,  if  ever,  the  soul  makes  its  most  powerful  sallies 
towards  heaven,  and  assaults  it  vvith  a holy  and  accept- 


74  NATURE  AND  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

able  force.  And  certainly  the  neglect  or  careless  per- 
formance of  this  duty,  is  one  of  the  chief  causes  that 
bedwarfs  our  religion,  and  makes  us  continue  of  so  low 
a size. 

But  it  is  time  I should  put  a close  to  this  letter, 
which  is  grown  to  a far  greater  bulk  than  at  first  I 
intended.  If  these  poor  papers  can  do  you  the  small- 
est service,  I should  think  myself  very  happy  in  this 
undertaking:  at  least,  I am  hopeful  you  will  kindly 
accept  the  sincere  endeavors  of  a person  who  would  fain 
acquit  himself  of  some  part  of  that  which  he  owes  you. 

A PRAYER. 

‘And  now,  O most  gracious  God,  father  and  fountain 
of  mercy  and  goodness,  who  hast  blessed  us  with  the 
knowledge  of  our  happiness,  and  the  way  that  leads  to 
it,  excite  in  our  souls  such  ardent  desires  after  the  one, 
as  may  put  us  forth  to  the  diligent  prosecution  of  the 
other.  Let  us  neither  presume  on  our  own  strength, 
nor  distrust  thy  divine  assistance ; but  while  we  dre 
doing  our  utmost  endeavors,  teach  us  still  to  depend  on 
thee  for  success.  Open  our  eyes,  O God,  and  teach  us 
out  of  thy  law.  Bless  us  with  an  exact  and  tender  sense 
of  our  duty,  and  a knowledge  to  discern  perverse  things. 
O that  our  ways  were  directed  to  keep  thy  statutes ; 
then  shall  we  not  be  ashamed,  when  we  have  respect 
unto  all  thy  commandments.  Possess  our  hearts  with 
a generous  and  holy  disdain  of  all  those  poor  enjoy- 
ments, which  this  world  holds  out  to  allure  us,  that  they 
may  never  be  able  to  inveigle  our  affections,  or  betray 
us  to  any  sin.  Turn  away  our  eyes  from  beholding 
vanity,  and  quicken  thou  us  in  thy  law.  Fill  our  souls 
with  such  a deep  sense,  and  full  persuasion  of  those 
great  truths  which  thou  hast  revealed  in  the  Gospel,  as 
may  influence  and  regulate  our  whole  conversation ; 
and  that  the  life  which  we  henceforth  live  in  the  flesh, 
we  may  live  through  faith  in  the  Son  of  God.  O that 
the  infinite  perfections  of  thy  blessed  nature,  and  the 
astonishing  expressions  of  thy  goodness  and  love,  may 
conquer  and  overpower  our  hearts ; that  they  may  be 
constantly  rising  towards  thee  in  flames  of  the  devoutest 
affection,  and,  for  thy  sake,  enlarging  themselves  in 
sincere  and  cordial  love  towards  all  the  world ; and 


SCOUGAL.]  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.  75 

that  we  may  cleanse  ourselves  from  all  filthiness  Of  flesh 
and  spirit,  perfecting  holiness  in  thy  fear,  without  which 
we  can  never  hope  to  behold  and  enjoy  thee.  Finally, 
O God,  grant  that  the  consideration  of  what  thou  art, 
and  what  we  ourselves  are,  may  both  humble  and  lay  us 
low  before  thee,  and  also  stir  up  in  us  the  strongest  and 
most  ardent  aspirations  towards  thee.  We  desire  to 
resign,  and  give  ourselves  up  to  the  conduct  of  thy  Holy 
Spirit  : lead  us  in  thy  truth,  and  teach  us,  for  thou  art 
the  God  of  our  salvation ; guide  us  with  thy  counsel, 
and  afterward^  receive  us  into  glory,  for  the  merits 
and  intercession  of  thy  blessed  Son  our  Saviour.’ — 
Amen, 


76 


THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 


DISCOURSES 

ON  IMPORTANT  SUBJECTS. 

BY  THE  REV.  H.  SCOUGAL. 


SERMON  I. 

THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS. 


Prov.  xii.  2G. 

Tht>.  'righteous  is  more  excellent  than  his  neighbor. 

He  who  considers  the  excellency  and  advantage  of 
piety  and  religion,  how  conformable  it  is  to  the  best 
principle  of  our  nature,  and  how  profitable  to  our  in- 
terests, may  justly  be  surprised  at  the  bad  entertainment 
it  receives  in  the  world;  and  will  easily  conclude,  that 
this  must  needs  flow  from  some  gross  mistakes  about 
it,  and  prejudices  against  it ; since,  when  things  are  not 
misrepresented,  it  is  so  natural  to  us  to  love  that  which 
is  good,  and  delight  in  that  which  is  amiable. 

Certainly  all  who  are  enemies  to  holiness,  have  taken 
up  false  measures,  and  disadvantageous  notions  of  it. 
The  sensual  person  hates  it,  as  harsh  and  unpleasant, 
doing  violence  to  his  carnal  appetites,  and  looks  on 
religion  as  a contrivance  to  deprive  and  rob  him  of  the 
pleasures  of  this  world,  by  proposing  those  of  another. 
The  politic  wit  slights  it  as  foolish  and  imprudent ; and 
though  he  acknowledges  it  as  a necessary  instrument 
of  government,  as  a good  device  to  overawe  a multi- 
tude, yet  he  counts  it  a great  weakness  to  be  further 
concerned  in  it,  than  may  be  consistent  with,  and  sub- 
servient to,  secular  designs.  Again,  the  gallants  of  our 
age  despise  it  as  a base  ignoble  temper,  unworthy  of  a 
high  birth  and  genteel  education,  incident  to  meaner 
souls,  proceeding  £i*om  cowardly  and  superstitious  fear. 


DISC.  I.J  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS.  77 

depressing  the  mind,  and  rendering  it  incapable  of  high 
and  aspiring  thoughts.  Hence,  they  make  it  their  busi- 
ness to  pour  contempt  upon  piety,  and  to  advance  the 
reputation  of  those  vicious  courses  which  themselves 
have  embraced.  And  because  there  are  yet  some  left, 
who,  by  practising  and  recommending  virtue,  oppose 
and  condemn  their  lewd  practices,  they  study  to  avenge 
themselves  on  them  by  the  persecution  of  their  tongues, 
and  by  all  the  scoffs  and  reproaches  they  can  invent 
and  utter — a means  which  has  proved  most  unhappily 
successful,  in  deterring  many  weak  minds  from  good- 
ness ; making  them  choose  to  be  wicked,  that  they  may 
not  be  laughed  at. 

It  is  to  discover  the  grossness  of  this  mistake,  and  to 
expose  the  absurdities  and  unreasonableness  of  these 
principles  and  practices ; — to  vindicate  the  excellency 
of  piety,  and  to  recommend  it  to  all  truly  generous 
souls, — that  we  have  made  choice  of  this  text ; which 
tells  us,  in  short  and  plain  terms,  that  “ the  righteous  is 
more  excellent  than  his  neighbor.” 

None  can  be  so  little  acquainted  with  the  Scripture 
dialect,  as  not  to  know,  that,  though  righteousness,  in 
its  truest  acceptation,  imports  only  the  observation  of 
those  duties  which  we  owe  our  neighbor,  yet  it  is 
usually  taken,  more  largely,  for  piety  and  virtue  in 
general.  And  good  reason  too  ; since  there  is  no  part 
of  our  duty,  which  we  do  not  owe  as  a debt  unto  God  ; 
no  exercise  of  religion,  which  is  not  an  act  of  justice : 
whence  the  clear  import  of  the  text  is,  that,  whatever 
excellency  other  persons  may  pretend  to,  pious  and 
religious  men  alone,  are  the  truly  noble  and  generous 
persons  in  the  world ; as  the  Psalmist  expresses  it,  “ The 
saints  are  excellent  ones  in  the  earth.” 

Now,  we  shall  not  trouble  you  with  any  further  expli- 
cation of  the  words  which  are  so  clear,  or  with  any 
division  of  a proposition  so  simple  : but  shall  rather 
illustrate  and  confirm  the  assertion,  by  producing  such 
undoubted  evidences  of  nobleness  and  excellency,  as 
are  proper  to  godliness,  and  to  those  who  practise  it. 
Where  we  may  have  occasion  to  hint  at  such  characters 
of  a pious  man,  as,  besides  the  general  design,  may, 
perhaps,  serve  to  put  us  in  mind  of  some  parts  of  our 
duty,  which  we  are  not  so  careful  to  observe ; and 

7# 


78  THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL, 

which,  therefore,  may  be  useful,  even  to  those  who  have 
already  embraced  the  practice  of  religion. 

Being  to  speak  of  the  nobleness  and  excellency  of 
religion,  it  may  be  expected  that  we  should  say  some- 
thing of  its  origin  and  extract ; the  whole  of  nobility 
which  some  understand,  and  others  pretend  to.  We 
might  take  occasion  to  discover  the  folly  of  glorying 
in  the  antiquity  of  an  illustrious  house,  or  the  famed 
virtue  of  worthy  ancestors,  who,  perhaps,  were  they 
alive,  would  disown  their  degenerate  progeny.  But  I 
shall  not  insist  upon  this  ; it  is  a vanity  which  has  been 
chastised  sufficiently  even  by  Heatlien  pens.^  Nay,  we 
shall  so  far  comply  with  the  common  sentiments  of  the 
world,  as  to  acknowledge  that  high  birth  and  liberal 
education  may  contribute  much  to  elevate  the  minds  of 
men,  and  accustom  them  to  great  thoughts.  But  surely, 
whatever  advantages  any  may  pretend  to  by  their  birth, 
there  are  none  to  be  preferred  to  the  children  of  God, 
the  blood-royal  of  heaven,  the  brethren  of  Christ  ; of 
whom  we  may  say,  that  “as  he  is,  so  are  they;  each 
one  resembling  the  son  of  a king.” 

If  we  trace  the  lines  of  earthly  extraction,  we  shall 
find  them  all  meet  in  one  point ; all  terminate  in  dust 
and  earth.  But  in  the  heraldry  of  heaven,  we  shall  find 
a two-fold  pedigree.  Sin  is  the  offspring  of  hell ; and 
“ wicked  men  are  of  their  father  the  devil,”  whose  work 
they  perform.  On  the  other  hand,  holiness  is  the  seed 
of  God  : and  the  saints  have  obtained  to  be  called  “ the 
sons  of  the  Most  High.”  And  think  not,  that  these  are 
empty  titles,  and  big  words,  to  amuse  the  world  ; no, 
they  are  equally  just  and  important.  Pious  men  are 
really  “partakers  of  the  Divine  nature,”  and  shall  obtain 
an  interest  in  the  inheritance  which  is  entailed  on  that 
relation.  Never  were  the  qualities  of  a parent  more 
really  derived  unto  their  children,  than  the  image  and 
similitude  of  the  Divine  excellences  are  stamped  upon 
these  heaven-born  souls.  Some  beams  of  that  eternal 
light  are  darted  in  upon  them,  and  make  them  shine  with 
an  eminent  splendor  : and  they  are  always  aspiring  to  a 
nearer  conformity  with  him,  still  breathing  after  a fur- 
ther communication  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  and  daily 


^ Sec  particularly  Juvenal,  Sat.  viii. — Ed. 


DISC.  I.]  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS.  79 

finding  the  power  of  that  Spirit  correcting  the  ruder 
deformities  of  their  natures,  and  superinducing  the 
beautiful  delineations  of  God’s  image  upon  them ; so 
that  any  who  observe  them,  may  perceive  their  rela^ 
tion  to  God,  by.  the  excellency  of  their  deportment  in 
the  world. 

Having  spoken  of  the  righteous  or  godly  man’s  ex- 
cellency, in  respect  of  his  birth  and  extraction,  we  pro- 
ceed to  consider  his  qualities  and  endowments  ; and 
shall  begin  with  those  of  his  understanding,  his  know- 
ledge, and  wisdom.  The  wise  man  tells  us,  that  “ a 
man  of  understanding  is  of  an  excellent  spirit.”  And 
surely,  if  any  man  in  the  world  is  to  be  esteemed  for 
knowledge,  it  is  the  pious  man.  His  knowledge  is  con- 
versant about  the  noblest  objects  ; he  contemplates  that 
infinite  being,  whose  perfections  can  never  enough  be 
admired,  but  still  afford  new  matter  to  astonish  and  de- 
light him  ; to  ravish  his  affections  ; to  raise  his  wonder. 
He  studies  the  law  of  God,  “ which  maketh  him  wiser 
than  all  his  teachers.”  As  Dr.  Tillotson  has  it,  ‘ It  is 
deservedly  accounted  an  excellent  piece  of  knowledge, 
to  understand  the  laws  of  the  land,  the  customs  of  the 
country  we  live  in  ; how  much  more  to  know  the  sta- 
tutes of  heaven,  the  eternal  Jaw^s  of  righteousness,  the 
will  of  the  universal  monarch,  and  the  customs  of  that 
country  where  w^e  hope  to  live  forever?’  And,  if  we 
have  a mind  to  the  studies  of  nature  and  human  science, 
he  is  best  disposed  for  it,  having  his  faculties  cleared^ 
and  his  understanding  heightened,  by  divine  contem- 
plations. 

But  his  knowledge  does  not  rest  in  speculation  ; it 
directs  his  practice,  and  determines  his  choice.  And  he 
is  the  most  prudent,  as  well  as  the  most  knowing  per- 
son. He  knows  how  to  secure  his  greatest  interest; 
to  provide  for  the  longest  life  ; to  prefer  solid  pleasures 
to  gilded  trifles : the  soul  to  the  body  ; eternity  to  a 
moment.  He  knows  the  temper  of  his  own  spirit;  he 
can  moderate  his  passions,  and  overrule  his  carnal 
appetites  : whiclq  certainly,  is  a far  more  important 
piece  of  wisdom,  than  to  understand  the  intrigues  of  a 
state,  to  fathom  the  councils  of  princes,  to  know  the 
pulse  of  a people,  or  to  balance  the  interests  of  king- 
doms. Yea,  piety  heightens  and  advances  even  moral 


80  THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

prudence  itself : for  while  both  direct  and  oblige  a man 
to  “order  his  affairs  with  discretion,”  piety  “ maketh 
the  simple  wise.”  And  what  was  said  by  holy  David, 
and  twice  repeated  by  his  wise  son,  will  hold  good  in 
every  man’s  experience,  that  “ the  fear  of  the  Lord  is 
the  beginning  of  wisdom.”  And  thus  much  of  the 
knowledge  and  wisdom,  in  which  the  righteous  man 
excelleth  his  neighbor. 

We  proceed  to  another  of  his  endowments;  the 
greatness  of  his  mind,  and  his  contempt  of  the  world. 
We  can  never  take  better  measures  of  a man’s  spirit, 
than  from  the  things  in  which  he  delights,  and  on  which 
he  sets  his  heart.^  To  be  taken  up  with  trifles,  and 
concerned  in  little  things,  is  an  evidence  of  a weak  and 
naughty  mind.  And  such  are  all  wicked  and  irreli- 
gious persons : their  thoughts  are  confined  to  low  and 
mean  things ; to  designs  of  scraping  together  money, 
or  spending  it  in  luxury ; of  satisfying  an  appetite,  or 
pleasing  a passion  ; of  obtaining  the  favor  of  great  ones, 
or  the  applause  of  the  vulgar.  The  greatest  happiness 
at  which  they  aim,  is  to  be  masters  of  the  country 
where  they  live ; to  dwell  in  stately  houses,  and  to  be 
backed  with  a train  of  attendants ; to  lie  softly,  and 
fare  deliciously,  and  such  miserable  attainments  ; which 
a wise  man  would  think  himself  unhappy  if  he  could 
not  despise. 

But  the  pious  person  has  his  thoughts  far  above  these 
jiainted  vanities.  His  felicity  is  not  patched  up  of  so 
mean  shreds ; it  is  simple,  and  comprised  in  one  chief 
good : his  soul  advances  itself,  by  rational  movements, 
towards  the  Author  of  its  being,  the  fountain  of  good- 
ness and  pleasure  ; “ I have  none  in  heaven  but  Thee  ; 
and  there  is  none  upon  earth  whom  I desire  beside 
Thee.” 

The  knowledge  of  nature  has  been  reputed  a good 
means  to  enlarge  the  soul,  and  to  breed  in  it  a contempt 
of  earthly  enjoyments.  He  that  has  accustomed  him- 
self to  consider  the  vastness  of  the  universe,  and  the 
small  proportion  which  the  point  we  live  in  bears  to  the 
rest  of  the  world,  may,  perhaps,  come  to  think  less  of 
the  possession  of  some  acres,  or  of  that  fame  which 


b ‘ Q^ualis  amor,  talis  animus.’ 


DISC.  I.]  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS.  81 

can,  at  most,  spread  itself  through  a small  corner  of  this 
earth.  Whatever  be  in  this,  sure  I am,  that  the  know- 
ledge of  God,  and  the  frequent  thoughts  of  heaven, 
must  needs  prove  far  more  effectual  to  elevate  and^ag- 
grandize  the  mind.  When  once  the  soul,  by  contem- 
plation, is  raised  to  any  right  apprehension  of  the  Divine 
perfections,  and  to  foretastes  of  celestial  bliss,  how  will 
this  world  and  all  that  is  in  it,  vanish  and  disappear  be- 
fore his  eyes  ? With  what  holy  disdain,  will  he  look 
down  upon  things,  which  are  the  highest  objects  of 
other  men’s  ambitious  desires  ? All  the  splendor  of 
courts,  all  the  pageantry  of  greatness,  will  no  more 
dazzle  his  eyes,  than  the  faint  lustre  of  a glow-worm 
will  trouble  the  eagle,  after  it  has  been  beholding  the 
sun.  He  is  little  concerned,  who  obtained  this  dignity, 
or  that  fortune ; who  sits  highest  at  table,  or  goes  first 
out  of  the  door.  His  thoughts  are  taken  up  with  greater 
matters ; how  he  shall  please  his  Maker,  and  obtain  an 
interest  in  that  land  of  promise,  some  of  v/hose  fruits' 
he  has  already  tasted.  And  from  hence  arises  that  con- 
stant and  equal  frame  of  spirit,  which  the  pious  man’s 
mind  maintains,  in  all  the  changes  and  vicissitudes  of 
things.  While  he  who  has  not  his  spirit  balanced  by 
religious  principles,  is  lifted  up  and  cast  down  like  a 
ship  on  the  sea,  with  every  variation  of  fortune ; and 
partakes,  perhaps,  of  all  the  motions  of  this  inferior 
world,  to  which  his  heart  and  affections  are  riveted. 
And,  certainly,  he  must  be  far  more  happy  and  generous 
too,  who  sits  loose  to  the  world,  and  who  can,  with  the 
greatest  calmness  and  tranquillity,  possess  his  own  soul,, 
while  all  things  without  are  hurry  and  confusion.  Pri- 
vate disasters  cannot  discompose,  nor  public  calamities 
reach  him  ; he  looks  upon  the  troubles  and  combustions 
of  the  world,  as  men  do  on  the  ruin  and  desolation  of 
cities  in  which  themselves  have  little  interest ; with  no 
other  concernment  than  that  of  pity,  to  see  men  trouble 
themselves  and  others  to  so  little  purpose.  If  the  world 
should  shake,  and  the  foundations  of  the  earth  be  re- 
moved,'^ yet  would  he  rest  secure,  in  a full  acquiescence 
to  the  will  of  God,  and  a confident  dependence  on  his 


« ‘ Sifractus  illabatur-orbis,’  &c. 


82 


THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

providence  : “ He  shall  not  be  afraid  of  evil  tidings : 
his  heart  is  fixed,  trusting  in  the  Lord.” 

And  this,  by  the  affinity,  will  lead  us  to  another  en- 
dowment, in  which  the  excellency  of  the  righteous  man 
appears ; that  heroic  magnanimity  and  courage,  with 
which  he  is  inspired ; which  makes  him  confidently 
achieve  the  most  difficult  actions,  and  resolutely  under- 
go the  hardest  sufferings,  that  he  is  called  to.  For  this 
see  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews:  “Through  faith  some 
have  subdued  kingdoms this  was  their  active  courage. 
“Others  again  were  tortured,  &c. this  was  their  pas- 
sive courage,  which,  in  Christians,  is  most  eminent  and 
useful.  True  valor  more  appears  by  suffering  than  by 
doing ; and,  doubtless,  this  is  the  harder  trial  of  the 
two.  Were  it  not  for  suffering  hardships,  the  greatest 
coward  in  the  world  would  be  man  enough  for  the  high- 
est enterprises.  It  is  not  so  much  the  difficulty  of  great 
actions,  as  the  danger  that  attends  them,  which  makes 
men  fear  to  undertake  them : so  that,  to  suffer  choorfullyy 
must  be  the  greatest  proof  of  courage.  And  surely,  we 
may  appeal  to  the  world,  to  produce  such  eminent  in- 
stances of  fortitude  and  resolution  as  Christian  martyrs 
have  shown,  under  those  torments  which  cannot  be 
mentioned  without  horror.  How  often  has  their  con- 
stancy amazed  their  bloody  persecutors,  and  outwearied 
the  cruelties  of  their  tormentors!  Nor  was  this  pa- 
tience per-force  : they  might  have  saved  themselves  that 
trouble,  by  throwing  a little  incense  into  the  fire,  or 
speaking  a few  blasphemous  words ; but  well  had  they 
learned  “ not  to  fear  those  who  can  kill  the  body,”  &c. 
Nor  were  they  borne  out  by  an  obstinate  humor,  and 
perverse  stoical  wilfulness : they  were  neither  stupid 
and  insensible,  nor  proud  and  self-conceited ; their  suf- 
ferings were  undertaken  with  calmness,  and  sustained 
with  moderation. 

Let  Heathen  Rome  boast  of  a Regulus,  a Decius,  or 
some  two  or  three  more-,  stimulated  by  a desire  of  glory, 
and  perhaps  animated  by  some  secret  hopes  of  future  re- 
ward, who  have  devoted  their  life  to  the  service  of  their 
country.  But  wffiat  is  this  to  an  infinite  number,  not  only 
of  men,  but  even  of  women  and  children,  who  have  died 
for  the  profession  of  their  faith ; neither  seeking  nor  ex* 


DISC.  I.]  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS.  83 

pecting  any  praise  from  men?  And  tell  me,  who  among 
the  Heathen  willingly  endured  the  loss  of  reputation? 
Nay,  that  was  their  idol,  and  tl^ey  could  not  part  with  it. 
And,  certainly,  it  is  great  meanness  of  spirit  tobe  overawed 
with  fear  of  disgrace,  and  to  depend  upon  the  thoughts 
of  the  people.  True  courage  equally  fortifies  the  mind 
against  all  those  evils,  and  will  make  a man  hazard  his 
honor,  as  well  as  other  things,  when  occasion  calls 
for  it. 

Now,  if  the  celebrated  actions  of  the  Heathen  come 
short  of  true  courage,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  furious 
boldness  of  the  Hectors  of  our  age,  who  pretend  to 
prowess  and  gallantry,  by  far  less  reasonable  methods  ? 
When,  blinded  with  passion,  and  animated  with  wine, 
they  are  ready  enough,  on  half  a quarrel,  to  hazard  their 
own  and  their  neighbor’s  life,  and  soul  too,  in  a duel ! 
Yea,  they  will  not  scruple  to  brave  heaven  itself,  and  to 
provoke  the  Almighty,  by  their  horrid  oaths  and  blas- 
phemies. One  would  think,  that  these  must  needs  be 
the  hardiest  and  most  valiant  people  in  the  world  ; if 
they  are  not  afraid  of  the  Almighty,  surely  nothing  else 
should  fright  them.  And  yet,  you  shall  find  these  very 
persons,  when  cast  on  a bed  by  sickness,  or  brought  to 
the  scaffold  by  justice,  betraying  a miserable  faintness 
and  pusillanimity.  They  are  forced  now  to  think  on 
the  terrors  of  death,  and  the  more  terrible  consequences 
of  it;  and  their  counterfeit  courage,  destitute  of  those 
props  which  formerly  sustained  it,  now  discovers  its 
weakness.  Nor  is  it  any  wonder  : for  what  should  make 
a man  willingly  leave  this  world,  unless  he  expected  a 
more  happy  condition  in  another  ? Certainly,  nothing 
can  fortify  the  soul  with  a true  and  manly  courage,  but 
a confidence  in  God,  and  the  hope  of  future  blessedness. 
“ The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth ; but  the 
righteous  is  bold  as  a lion  and,  from  that,  he  is  justly 
accounted  “more  excellent  than  his  neighbor.” 

From  courage  and  magnanimity,  we  pass  to  that 
which  is  its  genuine  issue  and  ordinary  consequence, 
the  liberty  and  freedom  of  the  righteous  person.  Liberty 
is  a privilege  so  highly  rated  by  all  men,  that  many  run 
the  greatest  hazards  for  its  very  name : but  there  are 
few  who  enjoy  it  in  reality.  I shall  not  speak  of  those 
fetters  of  ceremony,  and  chains  of  state,  wherewith 


84  THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

great  men  are  tied;  which  make  their  actions  con- 
strained, and  their  converse  uneasy:  this  is  more  to 
be  pitied  than  blamed.  But  wicked  and  irreligious  per- 
sons are  under  a far  more  shameful  bondage  : they  are 
slaves  to  their  own  passions,  and  suffer  the  violence 
and  tyranny  of  their  irregular  appetites.  This  is  fre- 
quently talked  of,  but  seldom  considered  or  believed  ; 
and  therefore  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  bring  an  instance 
or  two,  for  the  illustration  of  it.  Observe  a passion- 
ate man,  and  you  shall  find  him  frequently  transported 
and  overpowered  by  his  anger,  and  carried  to  those 
extremities  of  which  a little  time  makes  him  ashamed ; 
and  he  becomes  as  much  displeased  with  himself,  as 
formerly  he  was  with  his  adversary : and  yet,  on  the 
next  occasion,  he  will  obey  that  same  passion  which  he 
has  condemned.  What  a drudge  is  a covetous  man  to 
his  riches  ; which  take  up  his  thoughts  all  the  day  long, 
and  break  his  sleep  in  the  night ! How  must  the  am- 
bitious man  fawn  and  flatter,  and  cross  his  very  humor, 
with  hopes  to  satisfy  it ; stoop  to  the  ground,  that  he 
may  aspire;  courting  and  caressing  those  whom  he 
hates  : which,  doubtless,  is  done  with  a great  violence 
and  constraint.  The  drunkard,  when  he  awakes,  and 
has  slept  out  his  cups  and  his  frolic  humor,  and  finds  his 
head  aching,  his  stomach  qualmish,  perhaps  his  purse 
empty,  and  reflects  on  his  folly,  and  unhandsome  expres- 
sions or  actions  into  which  he  may  have  fallen  in  his 
drink,  how  will  he  condemn  himself  for  that  excess ! 
What  harangues  shall  we  have  from  him,  in  the  praise 
of  temperance  ! W’^hat  promises  and  resolutions  of  fu- 
ture sobriety ! And  yet,  on  the  next  occasion,  the  poor 
slave  shall  be  dragged  away  to  the  tavern,  by  those 
whom  he  must  call  his  friends ; and  must  thank  them, 
who  put  upon  him  that  abuse  which  a wise  and  sober 
person  would  rather  die  than  suffer.  Further,  the  luxu- 
rious would  fain  preserve,  or  recover,  his  health ; and, 
to  this  end,  he  finds  it  requisite  to  keep  a temperate  and 
sober  diet.  No  ; but  he  must  not.  He  is  present  at  a 
feast,  and  his  superior  appetite  calls  for  a large  measure 
of  delicious  fare  ; and  his  palate  must  be  pleased,  though 
the  whole  body  shall  suffer  for  it:  or  he  has  met  with 
a profligate  woman  ; and  though  his  whole  bones  should 
rot,  “ and  a dart  strike  through  his  liver,”  yet  must  he 


DISC.  I.]  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS.  85 

obey  the  command  of  his  passions : “ He  goeth  after 
her  straightway,  as  the  ox  goeth  to  the  slaughter,  or  as 
a fool  to  the  correction  of  the  stocks.”  Now,  there  can 
be  no  greater  evidence  of  slavery  and  bondage,  than 
thus  to  do  what  themselves  know  to  be  prejudicial.  It 
were  easy  to  illustrate  this  bondage  and  thraldom  of  the 
soul,  in  all  the  other  instances  of  vice  and  impiety.  And 
certainly,  what  St.  Peter  says  of  some  false  teachers, 
may  be  well  applied  to  all  wicked  persons  : “While  they 
promise  freedom,  they  themselves  are  the  servants  of 
corruption  : for,  of  whom  a man  is  overcome,  of  the 
same  is  he  brought  in  bondage.” 

But  the  holy  and  religious  person  has  broken  these 
fetters;  has  cast  off  the  yoke  of  sin,  and  become  the 
freeman  of  the  Lord.  It  is  religion  that  restores  free- 
dom to  the  soul,  which  philosophy  did  but  pretend  to ; 
it  is  that  which  sways  and  moderates  all  those  blind 
passions  and  impetuous  affections,  which  else  would 
hinder  a man  from  the  possession  and  enjoyment  of 
himself,  and  which  makes  him  master  of  his  own 
thoughts,  motions,  and  desires,  that  he  may  do  with 
freedom  what  he  judges  most  honest  and  convenient. 
And  thus  “ the  righteous  man  excelleth  his  neighbor,” 
as  much  as  a freeman  excels  the  basest  slave. 

Another  particular  wherein  the  nobleness  and  excel- 
lency of  religion  appears,  is  in  a charitable  and  benign 
temper.  There  is  no  greater  evidence  of  a base  and 
narrow  soul,  than  for  a man  to  have  all  his  thoughts 
taken  up  with  private  and  selfish  interests  ; and  if  those 
interests  be  prosperous,  not  to  care  what  becomes  of 
the  rest  of  the  world.  On  the  other  hand,  an  extensive 
charity  and  kindness,  as  it  is  the  one-half  of  our  religion, 
so  it  is  an  eminent  point  of  generosity.  “ The  righteous 
man  is  gracious,  and  full  of  compassion;  he  shovveth 
favor  and  lendeth ;”  and  makes  it  his  work  to  serve 
mankind  as  much  as  he  is  able.  His  bounty  is  not 
confined  to  his  kindred  and  relations,  to  those  of  his 
own  party  and  mode  of  religion : this  were  but  a dis- 
guised kind  of  self-love.  It  is  enough  to  him  that  they 
are  Christians ; or,  if  they  were  not,  yet  are  they  men, 
and  therefore  deserve  our  pity,  not  our  hatred  or  neg- 
lect, because  of  their  errors.  It  is  true,  he  has  a spe- 
cial kindness  for  those  in  whom  he  discovers  a principle 


86  THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUOAL. 

of  goodness  and  virtue ; in  those  excellent  ones  is  all 
his  delight.  But,  then,  he  takes  his  measure,  not  so 
much  from  their  judgment  and  opinions,  as  from  the 
integrity  of  their  life,  and  the  exactness  of  their  prac- 
tices. 

His  charity  does  not  express  itself  in  one  particular 
instance,  for  example,  that  of  giving  alms;  but  is  vented 
in  as  many  ways  as  the  variety  of  occasions  require  and 
his  power  can  attain.  He  assists  the  poor  with  his 
money;  the  ignorant  with  his  counsel;  the  afflicted 
wdth  his  comfort ; the  sick  with  the  best  of  his  skill ; 
all  with  his  blessings  and  prayers.  If  he  cannot  build 
hospitals,  yet  he  will  study  to  persuade  those  who  can. 
If  he  has  no  money  to  redeem  captives,  yet  will  he 
employ  his  interest  in  the  court  of  heaven  for  their 
deliverance.  Though  he  cannot  recover  a dying  child 
to  the  afflicted  parents,  yet  he  will  endeavor  to  persuade 
them  to  submission  and  resignation,  which  will  render 
them  more  happy.  And  thus,  in  every  emergency,  it 
will  go  hard  with  him  if  he  does  not  find  some  way, 
either  to  benefit  or  oblige  every  man  with  whom  he 
converses.  Nor  let  any  man  upbraid  us  with  the  con- 
trary practices  of  many  high  pretenders  to  religion, 
who  are  notedly  selfish  and  churlish  persons.  We  are 
not  to  defend  the  actions  of  all  who  would  be  thought 
godly  ; nor  must  you  take  your  measures  of  piety  from 
what  you  observe  in  them.  But  look  through  the  Gos- 
pel, and  you  shall  find  charity  and  bounty  so  passionately 
recommended,  so  frequently  inculcated,  and  so  indis- 
pensably required,  that  you  may  easily  conclude  there 
are  no  Christians  in  earnest,  but  those  who  practise  it. 
Yea,  so  peculiar  is  this  liberal  and  benign  temper  to 
holy  and  religious  persons,  that  nothing  but  a faint  re- 
semblance and  false  imitation,  is  to  be  found  elsewhere 
in  the  world.  Other  men’s  seeming  bounty  is  always 
marred,  by  the  base  principle  from  which  it  proceeds, 
and  the  selfish  purpose  to  which  it  tends.  The  apostle 
has  told  us,  that  “a  man  may  give  all  his  goods  to  feed 
the  poor,  and  yet  w^ant  charity  ;”  and  all  these  expenses 
shall  profit  him  nothing.  Importunity,  or  a willingness 
to  be  delivered  from  the  trouble  of  a miserable  specta- 
cle, may,  perhaps,  wring  something  out  of  his  pocket;  but 
vanity  and  a desire  of  applause  have  usually  the  greatest 


DISC.  I.]  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS.  87 

interest  in  his  distributions.  This  made  the  hypocrites 
of  old  proclaim  their  alms  with  trumpets ; and  this 
makes  their  successors  in  our  times  delight  to  have 
their  good  works  of  this  kind  recorded  to  the  greatest 
advantage,  that  posterity  may  read  them  on  walls  and 
in  public  registers. 

To  the  same  principle  must  we  refer,  what,  in  the 
world,  passes  for  a very  considerable  instance  of  gene- 
rosity, the  keeping  of  a great  house  and  well-furnished 
table  ; which,  nevertheless,  is  more  ordinarily  the  effect 
of  pride  and  vain  glory,  than  of  humility  or  hospitality. 
It  is  a part  of  men’s  splendor  and  state ; and  they  deck 
their  tables  for  the  same  end  that  they  put  on  fine 
clothes — to  be  talked  of  and  admired  in  the  world.  You 
may  guess  it,  by  the  persons  whom  they  entertain  ; 
who  are  usually  such  as  need  least  of  their  charity,  and 
fpr  whom  they  have,  very  often,  as  little  kindness  or 
concernment  as  an  innkeeper  for  his  guests ; nor  are 
they  less  mercenary  than  he  : the  one  sells  his  meat  for 
money,  the  other  for  praise.  Far  more  generous  is  the 
practice  of  the  pious  man,  who,  as  he  chooses  most  to 
benefit  those  who  can  make  him  no  recompense,  so  he 
does  not  trouble  the  world  with  the  noise  of  his  charity: 
yea,  “ his  left  hand  knoweth  not  what  his  right  hand 
bestoweth;”  and  that  which  most  endears  his  bounty  is 
the  love  and  affection  whence  it  proceeds. 

We  shall  name  but  one  instance  itiore,  in  which  the 
righteous  man  excels  his  neighbor ; and  that  is,  his 
venerable  temperance  and  purity.  He  has  risen  above 
the  vaporous  sphere  of  sensual  pleasure,  which  darkens 
and  debases  the  mind  : which  sullies  its  lustre  and 
abates  its  native  vigor : while  profane  persons,  wal- 
lowing in  impure  desires,  sink  themselves  below  the 
condition  of  men.  Can  there  be  any  spark  of  generosi- 
ty, any  degree  of  excellency,  in  him,  who  makes  his 
belly  his  god,  or  who  places  his  felicity  in  the  madness 
of  sensual  enjoyment?  We  spoke  before  of  the  slavery, 
we  speak  now  of  the  deformity,  of  these  sins  : and  shall 
add,  that  one  of  the  most  shameful  and  miserable  spec- 
tacles in  the  world  is,  to  see  a man  born  to  the  use  of 
reason,  and  perhaps  to  an  eminent  fortune,  drink  away 
his  religion,  his  reason,  his  sense ; and  so  expose  him- 
self to  the  pity  of  wise  men ; the  contempt  of  his  own 


88  THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

servants ; the  derision  of  his  children,  and  fools ; to 
every  danger,  and  to  every  snare;  and  that  this  must 
pass,  in  the  eyes  of  many,  for  a piece  of  gallantry,  the 
necessary  accomplishment  of  a gentleman.  How  are 
the  minds  of  men  poisoned  with  perverse  notions  ! 
What  unreasonable  measures  do  they  take  of  things  ! 
We  may  expect  next,  that  they  shall  commend  theft, 
and  make  harangues  in  praise  of  parricide  ; for  they  are 
daily  advancing  the  boldness  of  their  impieties,  and 
with  confidence  avowing  them.  Other  ages  have  prac- 
tised wickedness ; but  to  ours,  is  reserved  the  impudence 
to  glory  in  it.  But,  would  men  but  open  their  eyes,  and 
give  way  to  the  sentiments  of  their  own  minds,  they 
would  soon  alter  their  maxims,  and  discover  the  mise- 
rable deformity  of  vice,  and  the  beauty  and  majesty  of 
religion  ; that  it  at  once  adorns  and  advances  human 
nature ; and  has  in  it  every  thing  generous  and  noble, 
cheerful  and  spiritual,  free  and  ingenuous  ; in  a word, 
that  the  righteous  is  more  excellent  than  his  neighbor. 

Before  we  proceed  further,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
remove  some  prejudices  and  objections,  which  arise 
against  the  nobleness  and  excellency  of  religion.  And 
the  first  is,  that  it  enjoins  lowliness  and  humility;  which 
men  ordinarily  look  upon  as  an  abject  and  base  dispo- 
sition. What,  will  they  say,  can  that  man  ever  aspire 
to  any  thing  excellent,  whose  principles  oblige  him  to 
lie  low  and  grovel  on  the  ground  ; who  thinks  nothing 
of  himself,  and  is  content  that  all  the  world  think  no- 
thing of  him  ? Is  this  a disposition  fit  for  any,  but  those 
whose  cross  fortune  obliges  them  to  suffer  miseries  and 
affronts  ? Such  are  men’s  thoughts  of  humility ; which 
God  loves  so  much,  that,  we  may  say,  he  sent  his  own 
Son  from  heaven,  to  teach  and  recommend  it.  But,  if 
we  ponder  the  matter,  we  shall  find  that  arrogance  and 
pride  are  the  issues  of  base  and  silly  minds,  a giddiness 
incident  to  those  who  are  raised  suddenly  to  an  unac- 
customed height.  Nor  is  there  any  vice  which  more 
palpably  defeats  its  own  design;  depriving  a man  of  that 
honor  and  reputation,  which  it  makes  him  aim  at. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  shall  find  humility  no  silly  and 
sneaking  quality ; but  the  greatest  height  and  subli- 
mity of  the  mind,  and  the  only  way  to  true  honor : 
“ Before  destruction  the  heart  of  man  is  haughty,  and 


OF  THE  RELIGIOUS. 


89 


Disc.  I.] 


before  honor  is  humility.”  Lowliness  is  the  endow- 
ment of  high-born  and  well-educated  souls,  who  are 
acquainted  with  the  knowledge  of  excellent  things,  and 
therefore  do  not  doat  upon  trifles,  or  admire  little 
things,  merely  because  they  are  their  own.  They  have 
no  such  high  opinion  of  riches,  beauty,  strength,  or 
any  similar  advantages,  as  to  value  themselves  for  them, 
or  to  despise  those  who  want  them : but  they  study  to 
surmount  themselves,  and  all  the  little  attainments  they 
have  hitherto  reached,  and  are  still  aspiring  to  higher 
and  more  noble  things.  And  it  is  worth  our  notice, 
that  the  most  deep  and  pure  humility  does  not  so  much 
arise  from  the  consideration  of  our  own  faults  and  de- 
fects (though  that  also  may  have  its  proper  place),  as 
from  a calm  contemplation  of  the  Divine  perfections. 
By  reflecting  on  ourselves,  we  may  discover  something 
of  our  own  sinfulness  and  misery ; and,  consequently, 
may  be  filled  with  a kind  of  boisterous  and  turbulent 
grief  and  indignation : but,  by  fixing  our  eyes  on  the 
infinite  greatness  and  holiness  of  God,  we  are  most 
fully  convinced  of  our  own  meanness.  This  will  sink 
us  to  the  very  bottom  of  our  beings,  and  make  us  ap- 
pear as  nothing  in  our  own  sight,  when  beheld  from  so 
great  a height.  And  this  is,  really,  the  greatest  eleva- 
tion of  the  soul ; and  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  so 
noble  and  excellent,  as  the  sublimity  of  humble  minds. 

Another  objection  against  the  excellency  of  a reli- 
gious temper,  is,  that  the  love  of  enemies,  dnd  the  par- 
don of  injuries,  which  it  includes,  are  utterly  inconsist- 
ent with  the  principles  of  honor.  Now,  though  it  be 
highly  unreasonable  to  examine  the  laws  of  our  Saviour 
by  such  rules  as  this,  yet  we  shall  consider  the  matter 
a little.  Nor  shall  we  seek  to  elude  or  qualify  *this  pre- 
cept, as  some  do,  by  such  glosses  and  evasions  as  may 
suit  with  their  own  practices  : nay,  we  shall  freely  pro- 
fess that  there  is  no  salvation  without  the  observation 
of  it.  A man  had  even  as  well  abandon  Christianity, 
and  renounce  his  baptism,  as  obstinately  refuse  to  obey 
it.  But,  if  we  have  any  value  for  the  judgment  of  him 
who  was,  at  once,  both  the  wisest  man,  and  a great  king, 
he  will  tell  us,  that  “ it  is  the  honor  of  man  to  cease 
from  strife ; and  he  that  is  slow  to  wrath  is  of  great 
understanding.”  The  meek  and  lowly  person  lives 


90  THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY  [SCOUGAL. 

above  the  reach  of  petty  injuries,  and  blunts  the  edge  of 
the  greatest  by  his  patience  and  constancy ; he  has 
compassion  towards  those  who  offend  him  : being  more 
sorry  for  the  prejudice  they  do  themselves,  than  for  that 
which  they  intended  him.  And  let  all  the  world  judge, 
whether  it  be  more  generous  to  pity  and  love  even 
those  who  hate  us,  and  to  pardon  the  greatest  offences, 
than  peevishly  to  quarrel  on  every  petty  occasion,  and 
make  men  fear  our  passion,  hate  our  humor,  and  aban- 
don our  society?  So  that,  what  is  here  brought  as  an 
objection  against  religion,  might,  with  reason  enough, 
have  been  brought  as  an  instance  of  its  nobleness. 

Having  thus  illustrated  and  confirmed  what  is  assert- 
ed in  the  text,  that  the  righteous  is  more  excellent  than 
his  neighbor  ; let  us  improve  it,  as  a check  to  that  pro- 
fane and  atheistical  spirit  of  drollery  and  scoffing  at 
religion,  which  has  got  abroad  in  the  world.  Alas ! do 
men  consider  what  it  is  which  they  make  the  butt  of 
their  scoffs  and  reproaches?  Have  they  nothing  else  to 
exercise  their  wit,  and  vent  their  jests  upon,  but  that 
wffiich  is  the  most  noble  and  excellent  thing  in  the 
world?  What  design  can  they  propose  to  themselves 
by  this  kind  of  impiety  ? Would  they  have  religion  ba- 
nished from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  forced  to  retire 
for  shame  ? What  a goodly  world  should  we  then  have 
of  it ! What  a fine  harmony  and  order  of  things  ! Cer- 
tainly the  earth  would  then  become  a kind  of  hell,  with 
tumults  and  seditions,  rapines  and  murders,  secret  ma- 
lice, and  open  frauds,  by  every  vice,  and  every  cala- 
mity. Some  little  remainders  of  piety  and  virtue  in 
the  world,  alone  keep  it  in  any  tolerable  condition,  or 
make  it  possible  to  be  inhabited.  And  must  not  those 
be  wretched  persons,  and  woful  enemies  to  mankind, 
who  do  what  they  can  to  reduce  the  world  to  such  a 
miserable  condition  ? But  let  them  do  what  they  will ; 
they  but  kick  against  the  pricks.  Religion  has  so 
much  native  lustre  and  beauty,  that,  notwithstanding 
all  the  dirt  which  they  study  to  cast  upon  it,  all  the 
melancholy  and  deformed  shapes  in  which  they  dress 
it,  it  will  attract  the  eyes  and  admiration  of  all  sober 
and  ingenuous  persons : and  while  these  men  study 
to  make  it  ridiculous,  they  shall  but  make  themselves 
so.  And  O!  that  they  would  consider  how  dear  they 


DISC.  I.]  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS.  91 

are  to  pay  for  those  dull  and  insipid  jests,  wherewith 
they  persecute  religion,  and  those  who  practise  it 
or  recommend  it ! What  thoughts  they  are  likely  to 
have  of  them,  when  sickness  shall  arrest,  and  death 
threaten  them;  when  the  physicians  shall  have  for- 
saken them,  and  the  poor  despised  minister  is  called  in, 
and  they  are  expecting  comfort  from  him  that  they 
were  wont  to  mock,  and  perhaps  it  is  little  he  can  afford 
them ! “ O that  men  were  wise,  that  they  understood 
this,  that  they  would  consider  their  latter  end!” 

There  are  others,  who  have  not  yet  arrived  to  this 
height  of  profaneness,  who  do  not  absolutely  laugh  at 
all  religion  ; but  who  vent  their  malice  at  those  who 
are  more  conscientious  and  severe  than  themselves, 
under  presumption  that  they  are  hypocrites  and  dis- 
semblers. But,  besides  that  in  this  they  may  be  guilty 
of  a great  deal  of  uncharitableness,  it  is  to  be  suspected 
that  they  bear  some  secret  dislike  to  piety  itself ; and 
hate  hypocrisy  more  for  its  resemblance  of  that,  than 
for  its  own  viciousness : otherwise,  whence  comes  it 
that  they  do  not  express  the  same  animosity  against 
other  vices  ? 

To  this,  also,  we  may  refer  those  expressions  which 
sometimes  drop  from  persons  not  so  utterly  debauched, 
but  which  yet  are  blasphemous  and  profane  : ‘ that  this 
man  is  too  holy,  and  that  man  too  religious  as  if  it 
were  possible  to  exceed  in  these  things.  What ! can  a 
man  approach  too  near  to  God  ? Can  he  be  too  like 
his  Maker?  Is  it  possible  to  be  over-perfect,  or  over- 
happy  ? I confessv*^  man  may  over-act  some  parts  of 
religion,  and  dwell  too  much  on  some  particular  exer- 
cises of  it,  neglecting  other  as  necessary  duties.  But 
this  is  not  an  excess  of  piety,  it  is  a defect  of  discretion. 
And  reason  would  teach  us  rather  to  pardon  men’s  in- 
firmities for  their  pious  inclinations,  than  to  blame  piety 
for  their  infirmities. 

Let  me,  therefore,  entreat  you  all,  especially  those 
whose  birth  and  fortunes  render  them  more  conspicuous 
in  the  world,  to  countenance  holiness,  which  you  see  is 
so  excellent;  and  to  beware  that  you  do  not,  by  scoff- 
ing at  the  most  serious  things  in  the  world,  contribute 
to  that  deluge  of  wickedness  which  overflows  the  earth. 
And,  if  I obtain  this,  I shall  make  bold  to  beg  one  thing 


92  EXCELLENCY  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS.  [SCOUGAL. 

more,  but  it  is  in  your  own  favors  ; that  you  would  also 
abandon  every  kind  of  impiety  in  your  own  practice, 
since,  in  it,  every  vile  ruffian  may  vie  and  contend  with 
you.  In  other  cases,  you  forsake  modes  and  customs 
when  they  become  common.  Wickedness  is  now"  the 
most  vulgar  and  ordinary  thing  in  the  world.  Shift,  I 
beseech  you,  the  fashion,  and  embrace  piety  and  vir- 
tue; in  which  none  but  excellent  persons  shall  rival 
you.  Learn  to  adore  your  Maker  : and  think  it  not 
beneath  you,  to  stand  in  awe  of  him  who  can  rend  the 
heavens,  and  make  the  foundations  pf  the  earth  shake  ; 
who  needs  but  withdraw  his  mercies,  to  make  you  mise- 
rable ; or  his  assistance,  to  reduce  you  to  nothing. 
Study  to  ennoble  your  souls  with  solid  knowledge  and 
true  wisdom  ; with  an  eminent  greatness  of  mind,  and 
contempt  of  the  world ; with  a great  liberty  and  free- 
dom of  spirit ; an  undaunted  magnanimity  and  courage; 
an  extensive  charity  and  goodness  ; a venerable  temper 
and  purity ; an  amiable  meekness  and  humility.  So  shall 
you  render  yourselves  honorable,  and  more  excellent 
than  your  neighbors  in  this  world  ; and  be  partakers 
of  immortal  honor  and  glory,  in  the  world  to  come. 
Amen, 


DISC.  II.]  DUTY  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES. 


93 


SERMON  IL 

THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMI^IS. 


Luke  \i.  27. 

But  I say  unto  you  which  hear,  Love  your  enemies. 

While  we  travel  through  the  wilderness  of  this 
world,  much  of  the  comfort  of  our  pilgrimage  depends 
on  the  good  correspondence  and  mutual  services  and 
endearments,  of  our  fellow-travellers.  Therefore  our 
blessed  Saviour,  whose  precepts  are  all  intended  for  our 
perfection  and  felicity,  fitted  to  procure  to  us  the  good 
things,  both  of  this  world  and  of  that  which  is  to  come, 
has  taken  especial  care  to  unite  the  minds  of  men  in  the 
strictest  bonds  of  friendship  and  love.  He  has  been  at 
great  pains,  by  his  precepts  and  by  his  example,  by 
earnest  persuasion  and  powerful  motives,  to  smooth  our 
rugged  humors,  to  calm  our  passions,  and  to  free  our 
natures  from  that  roughness  and  asperity,  which  hinder 
us  from  cementing  together.  Now,  were  we  to  con- 
verse with  none  but  such  as  are  Christians  in  earnest, 
we  should  find  it  no  hard  matter  to  live  in  concord  and 
love ; we  should  meet  with  no  occasion  of  quarrel  and 
contention  ; and  should  only  be  obliged  to  love  our 
friends,  because  all  men  would  be  such.  But  well  did 
our  Saviour  know,  that  his  part  was  to  be  small  in  the 
world  ; that  many  would  oppose  the  profession,  and 
many  more  would  neglect  the  practice,  of  that  religion 
which  he  taught ; and  that  his  followers,  besides  com- 
mon injuries  incident  to  all  men,  were  to  meet  with 
much  enmity  and  hatred  for  their  Master’s  sake.  And, 
therefore,  that  amidst  all  these  storms  they  might  main- 
tain that  constant  serene  tranquillity,  that  sweetness  and 
benignity  of  spirit,  without  which  they  could  neither 
be  like  him  nor  happy  in  themselves,  he  was  pleased  to 
enjoin  such  an  ardent  affection  and  charity  towards  all 
men,  as  no  neglect  can  cool,  no  injury  can  extinguish. 
To  love  those  who  have  obliged  us,  is  that  which  na- 


94  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL. 

ture  might  teach,  and  wicked  men  practise ; to  favor 
those  who  have  never  wronged  us,  is  merely  an  act  of 
common  humanity  : but  our  religion  requires  us  to  ex- 
tend our  kindness  even  to  those  who  have  injured  and 
abused  us,  and  who  continue  to  do  and  wish  us  mischief : 
and  enjoins  that  we  never  shall  design  any  other  re- 
venge, against  our  most  bitter  and  inveterate  enemies, 
than  to  wish  them  well,  and  do  them  all  the  good  we 
can,  whether  they  will  or  not : for  unto  those  that  hear 
him,  our  Saviour  saith,  “ Love  your  enemies.” 

But,  alas  ! how  little  is  this  regarded,  by  the  greater 
part  of  those  who  call  themselves  Christians.  Other 
precepts  are  broken  and  slighted,  but  this  is  industri- 
ously balded  and  discredited.  In  other  cases,  we  ac- 
knowledge our  fault,  but  study  to  qualify  and  excuse  it, 
by  the  frailty  of  our  nature,  or  violence  of  a temptation: 

‘ we  are  all  sinners ; it  is  a fault  indeed,  but  who  can 
help  it  V Now,  though  these  excuses  are  very  frivolous, 
and  v/ill  be  of  no  force  in  the  great  day  of  account,  yet 
they  imply  something  of  modesty  and  ingenuous  ac- 
knowledgment ; and  men  may  repent,  and  forsake  what 
they  already  condemn.  But  in  the  instance  of  loving 
enemies,  and  pardoning  offences,  many  are  so  bold  and 
impudent,  that,  instead  of  obeying,  they  quarrel  with 
the  law,  as  impossible  and  unjust ; passing  sentence 
upon  that,  by  which  themselves  must  be  judged.  ‘ How 
unreasonable  is  it,  say  they,  that  we  should  love  those 
that  hate  us  ? What  congruity  between  that  act,  and 
those  objects  ? Can  cold  snow  produce  heat,  or  enmity 
beget  affection  ? Must  we  be  insensible  of  the  injuries 
with  which  we  meet,  or  reward  him  that  offers  them  ? 
Must  we  dissolve  the  principles  of  our  nature,  and  cease 
to  be  men,  that  we  may  become  Christians  ?’  These 
are  either  the  expressions  or  thoughts  of  too  many 
among  us.  And  either  Christ  must  come  down  in  his 
terms,  and  remit  somewhat  of  the  rigor  of  his  laws,  or 
else  all  the  promises  of  the  Gospel,  all  the  pleasures  of 
the  other  world,  shall  not  engage  them  to  his  obedience. 
They  will  rather  choose  to  burn  in  eternal  flames  of 
fury  and  discord,  than  live  at  peace  with  those  that  have 
wronged  them. 

It  can,  therefore,  never  be  unseasonable  to  press  a 
duty,  so  very  necessary  yet  so  much  neglected.  The 


Disc.  II.]  OI’  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  95 

text  which  I have  chosen  for  this  purpose,  is  very  plain 
and  clear  : “ Love  your  enemies.”  But,  because  many 
strain  the  precept  to  some  such  sense  as  may  suit  with 
their  own  practice,  we  shall  first  search  into  its  import, 
and  then  persuade  you  to  its  performance.  The  full 
meaning  and  import  of  the  precept  will  appear,  if  we 
consider,  first.  Who  they  are,  whom  we  are  commanded 
to  love  ; and  secondly.  Wherein  the  love  which  we  owe 
them  consists. 

The  persons  whom  we  are  commanded  to  love,  are 
called  our  “ enemies.”  And  lest  we  should  mistake 
them,  they  are  clearly  described  in  the  following  words  : 
the  fountain  of  their  enmity  is  within  ; they  are  those 
“ who  hate  us  ;”  who  envy  our  happiness  ; who  wish 
our  misery ; and  who  abhor  our  persons  and  society. 
Now,  were  this  fire  kept  within  their  breast,  it  might 
well  scorch  themselves,  it  could  not  prejudice  us:  but, 

out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speak- 
eth  ;”  their  malice  sharpens  their  tongues  ; they  are 
further  described  as  those  that  “ curse  us  ;”  they  vent 
their  wrath  in  oaths  and  imprecations,  secret  calumnies, 
and  open  reproaches.  Nor  are  their  hands  always 
bound  up ; they  “ use  us  despitefully,”  and  procure  us 
mischief.  Now,  if  our  love  must  be  extended  to  all 
these,  we  shall  hardly  find  any  whom  we  dare  safely 
exclude.  Of  our  private  enemies,  there  can  be  no  ques- 
tion. But  what  shall  be  said  of  the  enemies  of  our 
country  ? I see  no  warrant  to  exclude  them  from  our 
charity.  We  may,  indeed,  lawfully  oppose  their  violent 
invasion,  and  defend  our  rights  with  the  sword,  under 
the  banner  of  the  public  magistrate,  to  whom  such  au- 
thority is  committed  : but  all  this  may  be  done  with  as 
little  malice  and  hatred,  as  a judge  feels  in  punishing  a 
malefactor ; the  general  may  be  as  void  of  passion,  as 
the  lord  chief  justice  ; and  the  soldier,  as  the  execu- 
tioner. But  charity  will  oblige  a prince  never  to  have 
recourse  to  the  sword,  till  all  other  remedies  fail : to 
blunt  the  edge  of  war,  by  sparing,  as  much  as  may  be, 
the  shedding  of  innocent  blood,  with  all  other  barba- 
rities that  use  to  accompany  it ; and  to  accept  of  any 
reasonable  capitulation. 

We  come  next  to  the  enemies  of  our  religion ; and, 
indeed,  many  are  so  far  from  thinking  them  to  be  among 


96  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL. 

the  number  of  those  whom  they  are  oblig'ed  to  love, 
that  they  look  upon  it  as  a part  of  their  duty  to  hate  and 
malign  them.  Their  zeal  is  continually  venting  itself 
in  fierce  invectives  against  Antichrist,  and  every  thing 
they  are  pleased  to  call  Antichristian  ; and  they  are 
ready  to  apply  all  the  prophecies  and  imprecations  of 
the  Old  Testament,  in  their  very  prayers,  against  those 
that  differ  from  them.  And,  ordinarily,  the  animosities 
are  greatest,  where  the  differences  are  least ; and  one 
party  of  a reformed  church  shall  be  more  incensed 
against  another,  than  either  against  the  superstition  and 
tyranny  of  Rome,  or  the  carnality  of  the  Mahomedan 
faith.  Yea,  perhaps  you  may  find  some  who  agree  in 
opinion,  and  only  differ  in  several  ways  of  expressing 
the  same  thing,  and  yet  can  scarce  look  on  one  another 
without  displeasure  and  aversion.  But,  alas ! how 
much  do  these  men  disparage  that  religion  for  which 
they  appear  so  zealous  : how  much  do  they  mistake  the 
spirit  of  Christianity ! Are  the  persons  whom  they 
hate  greater  enemies  to  religion  than  those  who  per- 
secuted the  apostles  and  martyrs  for  professing  it  ? And 
yet  these  were  the  persons  whom  our  Saviour  com- 
manded his  disciples  to  love  ; and  he  himself  prayed  for 
those  that  crucified  him,  and  severely  checked  the  dis- 
ciples, when,  by  a precedent  brought  from  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, they  would  have  called  for  fire  from  heaven, 
on  those  who  would  not  receive  them  ; telling  them, 
“They  knew  not  what  spirit  they  were  of;”  that  is, 
they  did  not  consider  by  what  spirit  they  were  prompted 
to  such  cruel  inclinations  ; or,  as  others  explain  it,  they 
did  not  yet  sufficiently  understand  the  temper  and  genius 
of  Christianity,  which  is  pure  and  peaceable,  gentle 
and  meek,  full  of  sweetness,  and  full  of  love.  If  men 
would  impartially  examine  their  hatred  and  animosity 
against  the  enemies  of  their  religion,  I fear  they  would 
find  them  proceed  from  a principle  which  themselves 
would  not  willingly  own.  Pride  and  self-conceit  will  make 
a man  disdain  those  of  a different  persuasion,  and  think 
it  a disparagement  to  his  judgment  that  any  should  differ 
from  it.  Mere  nature  and  self-love  will  make  a man 
hate  those  who  oppose  the  interest  and  advancement  of 
that  party  which  himself  has  espoused.  Hence,  men 
are,  many  times,  more  displeased  at  some  small  mistakes 


DISC.  II.]  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  97 

in  judgment,  than  at  the  greatest  immoralities  in  prac- 
tice ; yea,  perhaps  they  will  find  a secret  pleasure  and 
wicked  satisfaction,  in  hearing  or  reporting  the  faults 
or  scandal  of  their  adversaries.  Certainly  the  power  of 
religion,  rightly  prevailing  in  the  soul,  would  mould  us 
into  another  temper ; it  would  teach  us  to  love,  and  pity, 
and  pray  for  the  persons,  as  well  as  hate  and  condemn 
the  errors  which  they  are  supposed  to  espouse:  it 
would  make  us  wish  their  conversion,  rather  than 
their  confusion,  and  be  more  desirous  that  God  would 
fit  them  for  another  world,  than  that  he  would  take 
/them  out  of  this.  We  may,  indeed,  wish  the  disappoint- 
ment of  their  wicked  purposes ; for  this  is  charity  to 
them,  to  keep  them  from  being  the  instruments  of  mis- 
chief in  the  world  ; but  he  that  can  wish  plagues  and 
ruin  to  their  persons,  and  that  delights  in  their  sins,  or 
in  their  misery,  has  in  his  temper  more  of  the  devil  than 
the  Christian. 

Thus  you  have  seen  who  those  enemies  are,  to  whom 
our  charity  must  be  extended.  It  remains  to  be  con- 
sidered, what  is  the  nature  of  the  love  we  owe  them.  I 
shall  not  now  spend  your  time  in  any  nice  or  curious 
speculations,  about  the  nature  of  this  master-passion.  It 
is  the  prime  affection  of  the  soul,  which  gives  measures, 
and  sets  bounds,  to  all  the  rest ; every  man’s  hatred, 
grief,  and  Joy,  depending  upon,  and  flowing  from,  his 
love.  I shall  now  only  observe  to  you,  that  there  is  a 
sensible  kind  of  love,  a certain  tenderness  and  melting 
affection,  implanted  in  us  by  nature,  towards  dur  nearest 
relations,  on  purpose  to  engage  us  to  those  peculiar 
services  which  we  owe  them ; and  there  is  an  intimacy 
and  delightful  union  betwixt  friends,  arising  from  some 
especial  sympathy  of  humors,  and  referring  to  the  main- 
tenance of  such  correspondences.  These  are  not 
always  at  our  command ; nor  are  we  obliged  to  love 
either  strangers  or  enemies  at  this  rate.  It  is  not  to  be 
expected,  that,  at  first  sight  of  a person  w^ho  had  no- 
thing singularly  taking,  we  should  find  such  a special 
kindness  and  tenderness  arising  for  him  in  our  hearts  ; 
much  less  can  fondness  and  passionate  affection  proceed 
from  the  sense  of  any  harm  received  from  him.  The 
command  in  the  text  does  not  amount  to  this ; though 
there  be  a great  advantage  in  a tender  and  affectionate 
9 


98  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL, 

disposition,  both  to  secure  and  facilitate  our  duty.  But 
we  are  certainly  obliged  to  such  a sincere  and  cordial 
good-will  to  all  men,  as  will  incline  us  to  perform  all  the 
good  offices  in  our  power,  even  to  those  who  have 
offended  us.  But  the  nature  and  measures  of  this  love 
will  more  fully  appear,  if  we  consider  what  it  excludes, 
and  what  it  implies. 

First,  then,  it  excludes  all  harsh  thoughts  and  ground- 
less suspicions.  The  apostle  tells  us,  that  “ charity 
thinketh  no  evil ; that  it  hopeth  all  things,  believeth 
all  things.”  To  entertain,  with  pleasure,  every  bad  re- 
port of  those  who  have  offended  us,  and  to  put  the  worst 
construction  on  their  doubtful  actions,  is  both  a clear 
evidence  of  our  hatred,  and  an  unhappy  method  to  con- 
tinue it.  Were  the  love  whicl^  we  recommend  once 
seated  in  the  soul,  it  would  soon  cast  out  those  restless 
jealousies,  sour  suspicions,  harsh  surmises,  and  imbit- 
tered  thoughts  : it  would  display  itself  in  a more  candid 
and  gentle  disposition ; in  fair  glosses  and  friendly  cen- 
sures ; in  a favorable  extenuation  of  greater  faults,  and 
a generous  covering  of  lesser  ones.  It  would  make  a 
man  interpret  all  things,  in  the  best  manner  of  which 
they  are  capable ; and  choose  rather  to  be  mistaken  to 
his  own  prejudice,  by  a too  favorable  opinion,  than  to 
that  of  his  neighbor,  by  a groundless  jealousy.  And 
even  in  this  sense  it  may  be,  that  “Charity  covereth  a 
multitude  of  sins.” 

Again,  the  love  which  we  owe  to  enemies  excludes  all 
causeless  and  immoderate  anger:  “It  suffereth  long, 
and  is  not  easily  provoked,  and  endureth  all  things.” 
Our  Saviour  tells  us,  that  “ Whoso  is  angry  with  his 
brother  without  a cause,  shall  be  in  danger  of  the  judg- 
ment ;”  and  if  his  anger  exceed  the  cause,  he  is  equally 
guilty.  All  anger  is  not  vicious  : we  maybe  angry,  and 
not  sin.  This  passion,  as  all  others  implanted  in  us  by 
God,  is  innocent,  when  kept  within  its  due  bounds : it 
has  its  proper  office  in  the  mind,  as  the  spleen  in  the 
body ; but  its  excess  and  distemper  swells  into  a disease. 
To  make  it  allowable,  it  must  not  exceed  the  value  of 
the  cause,  nor  the  proportion  of  the  circumstances.  It 
must  be  governed  by  discretion,  and  kept  within  the 
bounds  of  reason,  that  it  break  not  forth  into  indecent 
expressions,  or  violent  and  blameable  actions.  And 


DISC.  II.]  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  99 

further,  it  must  not  be  too  permanent  and  lasting : we 
must  not  let  the  sun  set  upon  our  anger.  Plutarch  tells 
us,  that  the  Pythagoreans  were  careful  to  observe  the 
very  letter  of  this  precept;  for,  if  anger  had  boiled  up 
to  the  height  of  an  injury  or  reproach,  before  sunset 
they  would  salute  each  other,  and  renew  their  friend- 
ship : they  were  ashamed  that  the  same  anger  which 
had  disturbed  the  counsels  of  the  day,  should  also  trou- 
ble the  quiet  and  repose  of  the  night;  lest,  mingling 
with  their  rest  and  dreams,  it  should  become  prevalent 
and  habitual  in  them.  And  surely  we  owe  an  infinitely 
greater  deference  to  the  precepts  of  our  blessed  Saviour 
and  his  holy  apostles,  than  they  did  to  their  master’s 
reasoning  and  advices.  And,  though  we  should  not 
take  this  precept  in  its  strictest  and  literal  signification, 
yet  this  we  must  know,  that  the  same  passion  and  re- 
sentment, which  Vas  innocent  and  rational  in  its  first 
rise,  may  become  vicious  and  criminal  by  its  continu- 
ance. Anger  may  kindle  in  the  breast  of  a wise  man, 
but  rests  only  in  the  bosom  of  a fool.  And  this  will 
lead  us  to  a third  thing  which  the  precept  in  our  text 
condemns. 

The  love  of  enemies  here  commanded,  excludes  all 
rooted  malice  and  rancor,  proceeding  from  the  memory 
and  resentment  of  injuries,  after  the  prejudice  sustained 
by  them  is  over.  Certainly,  there  is  nothing  more  con- 
trary to  charity  than  a peevish  ruminating  and  poring 
on  the  offences  we  have  met  with ; and  their  memories 
are  very  ill  employed,  who  seldom  remember  a courtesy, 
or  forget  a wrong.  It  is  ordinary  for  some,  who  dare 
not  profess  intentions  of  revenge,  to  express  their  re- 
sentment in  some  such  threatening  as  this  : ‘ that  they 
will  forgive  the  injury,  but  never  forget  it.’  I hope  they 
do  not  mean,  they  will  pass  it  by  at  this  time,  and  re- 
venge it  afterward.  This  would  but  make  the  sin  the 
greater,  by  being  more  deliberate.  Is  it,  then,  that  they 
intend  them  no  harm,  but  will  cease  to  do  them  good  ? 
This  is  a lame  and  imperfect  charity ; expressly  contra- 
dictory to  the  precept  in  the  text,  enjoining  us  ‘‘to  bless 
them  that  curse  us,  to  do  good  to  them  that  hate  us,  and 
to  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use  us.”  Nor  must 
we  expect  the  blessing  of  God,  if  this  be  all  we  allow  to 
others ; “ for,  with  what  measure  we  mete,  it  shall  be 


100  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL^ 

measured  to  us  again.”  There  is  but  one  way  in  which 
we  may  lawfully  remember  an  injury;  and  that  is,  to  be 
more  cautious  in  trusting  one  who  has  deceived  us,  or 
in  exposing  ourselves  to  the  power  of  him  who  has 
wronged  us.  In  this  case,  religion  allows  and  directs 
us  to  join  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent  with  the  innocency 
of  the  dove.  But  then,  I am  sure,  it  is  neither  neces- 
sary nor  fit  to  threaten  those  -who  have  wronged  us 
with  our  resolution  to  remember  the  injury.  Without 
threatening,  we  may  be  as  cautious  as  we  please.  And 
our  threats  would  infallibly  rankle  and  displease  our 
adversary,  which  ought  to  be  no  part  of  a Christian’s 
design.  A meek  and  charitable  person  will  be  loath  to 
have  his  memory  infested,  and  his  thoughts  soured,  with 
resentment  of  wrongs ; and,  if  they  occur  to  his  mind, 
he  will  make  no  other  use  of  them  than  to  put  himself 
on  his  guard ; unless,  indeed,  he  thence  take  occasion 
to  benefit  and  oblige  the  person  who  has  offended  him, 
and,  as  our  text  expressly  directs,  to  do  him  good,  to 
bless,  and  pray  for  him. 

Again,  this  precept  prohibits  the  taking  or  procuring 
any  revenge.  By  revenge  we  mean  such  a simple  evil 
done  to  our  adversary,  as  brings  no  real  benefit  or  re- 
putation to  ourselves.  For,  certainly,  it  is  not  unlaw- 
ful, unless  some  special  circumstance  makes  it  so,  to 
seek  the  reparation  of  our  own  right  by  an  authorized 
judge;  nor  yet,  to  provide  for  the  public  security,  by 
the  punishment  of  offenders.  This  may,  many  times, 
be  done,  without  prejudice  or  hatred,  yea,  with  great 
kindness  and  compassion,  toward  the  person  of  the 
offender.  But,  if  we  have  any  charity  or  love  to  our 
adversaries,  we  shall  be  really  afflicted  with  the  evil  that 
befals  them ; and,  therefore,  will  never  willingly  pro- 
cure ourselves  that  trouble,  by  inflicting  it  on  them.  It 
is  evidence  of  a wicked  and  malicious  humor,  to  please 
ourselves  in  the  misery  of  another ; or  to  delight  in  an 
evil  that  brings  us  no  good.  Whatever  latitude  the 
Jews  either  had  or  pretended  to,  it  is  not  lawful  for  us 
to  desire  eye  for  eye,  or  tooth  for  tooth ; unless  we 
could  say,  that  our  enemy’s  eye  would  serve  our  head, 
or  his  hand  fit  our  arm,  or  his  pain  allay  our  torment. 

From  hence  we  may  judge  what  is  to  be  thought  of 
those,  who  are  ready  to  revenge  the  smallest  injury, 


DISC.  II.]  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  101 

even  an  uncivil  expression,  with  the  death  of  the 
offender ; unsatisfied,  till  they  have  ventured  two  lives, 
and  as  many  souls,  in  the  combat : a thing  which  should 
not  be  named  among  Christians,  but  with  the  same  de- 
testation as  the  vilest  actions  ; for,  with  whatever  colors 
of  bravery  or  gallantry  it  may  be  painted,  it  is  really 
nothing  else  than  a more  specious  and  formal  kind  of 
murder.  Nor  does  it  differ  from  the  basest  assassina- 
tion, save  only  in  this  respect,  that,  together  with  the 
wickedness  of  attempting  another  man’s  life,  it  joins 
the  rashness  and  folly  of  exposing  our  own. 

Lastly,  the  love  which  we  owe  our  enemies,  excludes 
all  supercilious  and  scornful  contempt  and  neglect  of 
them  ; which  I mark  the  rather,  because  some  think 
they  have  sufficiently  obeyed  the  precept,  if  they  over- 
look an  injury,  as  thinking  the  injurious  person  beneath 
their  revenge.  Meanwhile,  their  corrupt  nature  feels 
as  much  pleasure  in  the  scorn  and  disdain  of  their  ene- 
mies, as  it  could  in  the  revenge  of  the  injury : their 
wicked  humors  are  not  starved,  but  only  change  their 
diet.  Of  this  nature  was  the  answer  of  the  philosopher, 
to  some  who  incited  and  provoked  him  to  revenge  : ‘ if 
an  ass  kicks  me,  shall  1 kick  him  again  V This  is  but 
a lame  and  misshapen  charity  ; it  has  more  in  it  of 
pride  than  goodness.  We  should  learn  of  the  holy 
Jesus,  who  was  not  only  meek,  but  lowly.  We  should 
contemn  the  injury,  and  pity  the  weakness,  but  we 
should  not  disdain  or  despise  the  persons  of  our  ene- 
mies : “ Charity  vaunteth  not  herself,  is  not  puffed  up, 
doth  not  behave  herself  unseemly.” 

Having  thus  discovered  those  things  which  are  incon- 
sistent with  charity,  and  excluded  by  the  love  of  our 
enemies,  it  remains  that  we  show  what  it  imports  and 
requires. 

First,  then,  it  imports  an  inward  kindness  and  affec- 
tion ; which  if  it  does  not  amount  to  that  passionate 
tenderness  wdiich  we  have  for  our  near  relations  and 
intimate  friends,  implies,  at  least,  a good  will  towards 
them,  and  a friendly  concernment  in  their  interest.  If 
we  love  an  enemy,  we  shall  wish  his  welfare,  and  re- 
joice in  it,  and  be  unfeignedly  sorry  for  any  disaster 
which  befals  him  : so  far  shall  we  be  from  rejoicing  in 
his  misfortunes.  And,  certainly,  had  we  a right  sense 
9^ 


102  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL, 

of  things,  we  should  be  more  troubled  for  the  harm 
which  our  enemy  does  to  his  own  soul  by  wronging  us, 
than  for  any  prejudice  which  we  sustain  by  him : our 
compassion  towards  him  would  diminish,  if  not  alto- 
gether swallow  up,  our  resentment. 

But  our  kindness  and  good  will  towards  our  enemies, 
should  not  rest  in  empty  wishes  ; it  must  express  itself 
in  kind  words,  and  friendly  actions.  When  we  speak 
to  our  enemy,  it  must  be  in  such  smooth,  discreet,  and 
obliging  terms,  as  are  most  likely  to  mollify  and  gain 
him ; that,  by  soft  answers,  we  may  turn  away  his 
wrath ; and  may  shun  all  grievous  words  which  stir  up 
anger.  When  we  speak  of  him,  it  should  be  as  advan- 
tageously, as  we  can  with  truth ; concealing  or  quali- 
fying his  faults,  and  praising  whatever  is  good  in  him* 
And,  surely,  he  must  be  singularly  bad,  in  whom  we  can 
find  nothing  to  commend. 

Again*,  we  must  perform  for  them  all  those  good 
offices,  which  their  necessities  demand,  and  which  our 
power  can  reach.  “Do  good  to  them  that  hate  you.  If 
our  enemy  hunger,  we  must  feed  him  ; if  he  thirst,  we 
must  give  him  drink : so  shall  we  heap  coals  of  fire  upon 
his  head,”  to  mollify  his  obdurate  temper,  and  overcome 
his  evil  by  our  good ; not  to  aggravate  his  guilt  and  pun- 
ishment, as  some  mistake  the  words : for,  though  that 
be  many  times  the  issue,  yet  ought  it  not  to  be  any  part 
of  our  design. 

Lastly,  because  all  that  we  can  do  for  the  good  of 
enemies,  signifies  little,  we  must  employ  our  interest  in 
their  behalf  in  the  court  of  heaven  ; begging  of  God, 
that  he  would  turn  their  hearts  to  himself,  and  to  us  ; 
that  he  would  bless  them  with  the  pardon  of  all  their 
sins,  particularly  the  wrongs  they  have  done  to  our- 
selves; and  that  he  would  give  them  all  things  necessary 
for  their  present  welfare  or  future  happiness  : “ Pray 
for  them  that  despitefully  use  you.”  And  this  will  be 
the  surest  evidence  of  our  charity  to  them.  Mild  words 
may  be  designed  as  a snare  to  entrap  them  ; courtesy, 
may  be  shown  them  to  gratify  our  vanity,  or  a generous 
kind  of  pride  ; we  may  feel  a certain  delight,  in  having 
our  enemy  indebted  to  us,  as  knowing  that  it  is  more 
glorious  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  to  raise  a fallen  ad- 
versary, than  to  trample  on  him.  Bui  it  can  be  cheerful 


DISC.  II.]  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  103 

obedience  to  God’s  commands,  and  sincere  love  to  our 
enemy,  which  alone  can  induce  us  to  take  him  into  our 
closets,  and  into  our  hearts  ; which  alone  can  share  our 
prayers  with  him,  and  make  him  participate  in  the  fruits, 
of  our  devotion;  M^hich  alone  can  make  us  have  the 
same  regard  for  his  interests  as  for  our  own,  at  once 
recommending  them  both,  with  equal  fervor,  to  our 
heavenly  Father. 

By  this  time,  I hope,  you  understand  the  import  of 
this  precept,  “ Love  your  enemies  it  remains,  that  we 
exhort  you  to  the  performance.  I shall  begin,  then, 
with  an  argument,  which  may  be  of  some  force,  to  give 
the  first  assault  to  our  rebellious  inclinations,  and  to 
make  way  for  further  and  more  mild  persuasions ; and 
this  argument  shall  be,  the  indispensable  necessity  of 
the  duty.  We  must  not  look  upon  this,  as  a matter 
which  we  may  do  or  omit  at  pleasure  ; nor  as  a counsel 
of  perfection,  highly  commendable,  but  not  absolutely 
necessary  to  salvation.  It  is  as  indispensably  required, 
as  any  other  duty  of  our  religion  ; and  he  who  resolves 
not  to  obey  in  this  instance,  may  renounce  his  baptism, 
and  abandon  Christianity.  None  can  escape  the  obli- 
gation of  the  precept,  unless  he  be  so  rarely  fortunate 
as  to  have  no  enemies ; nor  must  any  think  to  redeem 
themselves  from  this  duty,  by  any  other  performance. 
Let  our  opinions  be  never  so  orthodox,  and  our  zeal  in 
maintaining  them,  never  so  fervent;  let  our  prayers  be 
never  so  frequent,  and  all  our  discourses  eloquent  and 
convincing ; let  our  attainments  be  never  so  great,  and 
our  confidence  of  salvation  never  so  strong  and  un« 
doubting ; yet,  if  we  refuse  to  obey  this  precept,  we  are 
not  Christ’s  disciples : “ Though  I speak  with  the 
tongues  of  men  and  angels ; though  I have  the  gift  of 
prophecy,  and  understand  all  mysteries,  and  all  know- 
ledge ; though  I bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor ; 
yea,  though  I give  my  body  to  be  burned,  and  have  not 
this  charity,”  even  to  mine  enemies,  “it  profiteth  me 
nothing.”  And  our  Saviour  himself  tells  us,  in  express 
terms,  that  unless  we  forgive  men  their  trespasses, 
neither  will  God  forgive  us  ours.  Yea,  he  has  taught 
us  to  pray  for  pardon,  in  such  terms  as  import  a dread- 
ful curse  upon  ourselves  if  we  are  malicious  and  re- 
vengeful ; while  we  beg  that  God  would  pardon  us, 


104  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL. 

in  the  same  manner  that  we  pardon  those  who  sin 
against  us  ; subscribing,  as  it  were,  with  our  own  hands, 
and  confirming  out  of  our  own  mouths,  that  sentence 
which  shall  be  pronounced  against  us  : for  even  so,  will 
God  forgive  us  ; that  is,  he  will  take  vengeance  on  us, 
if  we  have  dealt  so  with  others.  And  as  those  who  do 
notdove  their  enemies,  beg  their  own  condemnation  in 
prayer,  so  also  they  eat  and  drink  it,  in  the  holy  sacra- 
ment. And  men  are  commonly  so  far  convinced  of  this, 
that  many  choose  to  keep  back  from  the  table  of  the 
Lord,  that  they  may  the  more  freely  entertain  their  ani- 
mosities. But,  alas  ! what  a folly  and  madness  this  is  ! 
Think  they  to  excuse  a sin,  by  the  neglect  of  a duty? 
Or  can  they  put  off  death,  as  they  put  off  the  participa- 
tion of  the  sacrament  ? Or  can  they  hope  to  be  admit- 
ted into  the  eternal  enjoyment  of  God,  if  they  should 
die  in  that  malice  which  renders  them  unfit  to  approach 
him  in  that  holy  ordinance  ? Do  not  deceive  yourselves : 
never  shall  any  enter  into  those  blessed  mansions,  those 
regions  of  peace  and  love,  whose  heart  is  not  first  in- 
spired with  charity,  and  softened  into  a compliance  with 
this  very  precept.  And  it  were  as  absurd,  to  think  that 
a man  may  be  malicious  and  revengeful  all  his  days, 
and  yet  afterward  go  to  heaven,  there  to  learn  meek- 
ness and  charity,  as  to  think  that  a man  may  be  luxu- 
rious and  dishonest  in  this  world,  and  become  tempe- 
rate, and  honest,  and  happy  in  the  other.  In  a word, 
whatever  shifts  we  may  make  to  deceive  ourselves,  the 
command  is  clear  and  express,  the  sanction  severe  and 
peremptory  ; w'e  have  but  our  choice  of  these  two,  love 
of  enemies,  or  future  condemnation. 

Nor  can  this  seem  unreasonable  to  any  who  consi- 
ders that  God,  the  author  of  our  natures,  the  creator 
of  all  our  faculties,  may  justly  rule  our  inclinations,  and 
dispose  of  our  love  and  affection.  And  yet  he  is  con- 
tent, if  I may  so  speak,  to  bargain  with  us,  and  to  buy 
off  our  natural,  or  rather  our  wicked  and  unnatural 
resentments;  offering  us  freedom  from  hell,  his  own 
mercy  and  favor,  and  everlasting  happiness,  on  this, 
amongst  other  conditions,  that  we  love  our  enemies. 

Nay,  further,  the  duty  in  itself  is  so  reasonable,  that 
the  more  sober  of  the  Heathen,  who  had  nothing  above 
reason  to  teach  them,  have  acknowledged  it,  if  not  as 


DISC.  II.]  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  105 

necessary,  yet  as  highly  becoming,  and  an  eminent 
instance  of  a virtuous  and  generous  mind.  Plato  could 
say,  ‘ That  injury  is  by  no  means  to  be  done,  nor  to  be 
repaid  to  him  that  has  done  it.’  When  a malicious  per- 
son said  to  Zeno,  ‘ Let  me  perish,  if  I do  you  not  a mis- 
chief his  answer  was,  ‘ Let  me  perish,  if  I do  not 
reconcile  you  to  me.’  Antoninus  tells  us  frequently, 

‘ That  all  reasonable  creatures  are  born  for  one  another  ; 
and  that  it  is  the  part  of  justice  to  bear  with  others  : that 
it  is  through  ignorance  they  offend  us,  as  not  knowing 
the  right  way  to  their  own  happiness  ; and  therefore, 
we  should  rather  instruct  them  better,  than  hate  them  : 
that  the  best  kind  of  revenge  is,  not  to  become  like 
them  in  wickedness  and  malice.’  And  many  other  ex- 
cellent arguments  does  that  royal  philosopher  bring,  to 
the  same  purpose.  And  Plutarch  gives  this,  as  one  of 
the  reasons  why  God  is  so  slow  in  punishing  wicked 
persons,  ‘ that  we  may  learn  meekness  and  patience  by 
his  example,’  adding  that  excellent  observation,  that 
‘ our  greatest  happiness  and  perfection  consists  in  the 
imitation  of  our  Maker.’ 

But  to  leave  the  testimonies  of  Heathen,  the  obliga- 
tion of  this  precept  of  loving  our  enemies  may  be  de- 
duced from  another,  which  every  man  will  acknowledge 
to  be  highly  reasonable  ; the  doing  to  others,  what  we 
would  have  done  to  ourselves.  Every  one  of  us  desires 
to  be  loved  and  cherished  by  mankind ; to  have  our 
faults  pardoned,  our  failings  overlooked,  and  our  neces- 
sities supplied.  Or,  if  any  be  so  haughty  and  stubborn, 
that  they  disdain  a courtesy  from  an  enemy,  yet  I hope 
there  is  none  so  mad  as  not  to  desire  the  favor  of  God  ; 
whose  hatred  he  deserves  infinitely  more,  than  the  most 
bitter  enemy  can  deserve  his.  How,  then,  can  we  think 
it  unreasonable,  to  show  that  mercy  to  others,  which 
ourselves  expect  and  desire  ? Can  we  look  that  our 
master  should  forgive  us  ten  thousand  talents,  if  we  take 
our  fellow-servant  by  the  throat,  and  hale  him  into  pri- 
son for  one  hundred  pence  ? Or  with  what  confidence 
can  we  say.  Pardon  our  sins,  unless  we  be  willing  to  add, 
that  we  pardon  those,  who  sin  against  us?  Certainly, 
if  it  be  reasonable  to  seek  pardon,  it  is  just  and  equal  to 
give  it ; and  nothing  but  blind  selfishness,  and  extrava^ 


100  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL, 

gant  partiality,  can  teach  us  to  make  so  unreasonable  a 
difference  between  ourselves  and  others. 

Again,  the  reasonableness  of  this  duty  will  further 
appear,  if  we  compare  it  with  that  malice  and  revenge, 
w^hich  it  opposes.  Can  there  be  any  thing  more  against 
natural  reason,  than  to  delight  in  an  evil  which  can 
bring  no  benefit  to  us?  Yet  this  is  the  very  nature 
and  essence  of  revenge  : for,  if  the  damage  we  sustain 
can  be  repaired,  it  is  no  revenge  to  seek  it;  and,  if  it 
cannot,  it  in  no  degree  alleviates  the  evil  of  the  acci- 
dent, that  we  draw  him  who  caused  it  into  as  great  a 
misery;  nay,  unless  we  are  unnatural,  and  without  bow- 
els, it  will  augment  our  trouble,  to  see  any  evil  befal  him. 
And  he  is  a miserable  person,  indeed,  whose  delight 
is  in  mischief;  whose  good  is  the  evil  of  his  neighbor. 
Yea,  I may  say,  that  he  who  returns  an  injury,  is  many 
times  moi'e  unreasonable  than  he  who  offered  it : for  he 
who  first  wrongs  another,  has  commonly  some  tempta- 
tion of  advantage  by  it ; which  revenge  cannot  pretend 
to.  But  if  he  has  done  it  out  of  mere  malice,  yet  he  is 
not  worse  than  the  man  who  returns  it.  There  is  as 
much  fantastic  pleasure  in  spite,  as  in  revenge  : both  are 
alike  miserable  and  extravagant. 

And  who  are  they  against  whom  we  bend  our  malice 
and  revenge?  Are  they  not  men,  partakers  of  the  same 
nature,  descended  from  the  same  stock  with  ourselves, 
fellow-citizens  with  us  in  this  world,  and  with  whom  we 
should  hope  to  live  for  ever  in  a better?  And  shall  we 
not  bear  much  from  those  who  are  so  nearly  related  to 
us?  Nay  more,  they  are  the  workmanship  of  God’s 
hands,  and,  for  any  thing  we  know,  either  are,  or  may 
become,  his  children  and  friends  : and  dare  w^e  pretend 
any  love  to  God,  if  we  do  not  spare  them,  for  his  sake? 
And,  lastly,  if  they  have  done  us  any  real  wrong,  they 
are,  in  so  far,  foolish,  and  destitute  of  reason  : and  who 
would  quarrel  with  a madman?  Certainly,  an  injurious 
person  knows  not  what  he  is  doing  : for  he  can  never 
wound  his  neighbor  but  through  his  own  sides  ; nor 
prejudice  another  in  a trifling  interest,  without  hazard- 
ing his  own  eternal  concernment ; and,  therefore,  he 
deserves  our  pity  rather  than  our  hatred. 

Much  more  might  be  brought,  to  demonstrate  the 
reasonableness  of  the  duty  to  which  our  Saviour  calls 


4 


DISC.  II.J  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  107 

US  in  the  text : but  I hope  what  has  been  already  said, 
may  suffice  to  stop  the  mouths  of  malicious  and  revenge- 
ful men,  who  are  ready  to  quarrel  with  it.  And,  if  this, 
or  any  other  duty,  appear  to  us  absurd  or  unreasonable, 
we  may  learn  the  cause  from  the  apostle  : “ The  car- 
nal man  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God  ; 
for  they  are  foolishness  to  him.’’^  It  is  the  carnality 
of  our  heart  that  make»  it  seem  so  ; and  therefore, 
instead  of  disputing  the  duty  let  us  endeavor  to  purify 
our  souls  and  open  the  eyes  of  our  mind;  and  we  shall 
find  that  to  be  true  which  wisdom  said  of  her  doctrines: 
“ They  are  all  plain,  to  him  that  understandeth  ; and 
right  to  them  that  find  knowledge.”^ 

But,  in  the  third  place,  the  love  of  enemies  is  not 
only  reasonable,  but  delightful ; it  has  a great  deal  of 
pleasure  and  sweetness  in  it.  Of  this,  I confess,  the 
greatest  evidence  must  be  had,  from  experience  and 
practice ; the  nature  even  of  earthly  pleasures  being 
such,  that  the  enjoyment  only  can  make  a man  know 
them.  But,  though  the  full  knowledge  of  this  fact  re- 
quire a nearer  acquaintance,  yet  even  those  who  look 
at  a distance,  may  perceive  something  of  amiableness 
in  the  love  of  enemies ; especially,  comparing  it  with 
the  trouble  and  uneasiness  of  that  vice  from  which  it 
would  deliver  us.  Malice  and  revenge  are  the  most 
restless  and  tormenting  passions,  that  can  possess  the 
mind ; they  keep  it  in  continual  hurry  and  disorder  : 
they  knaw  a man’s  heart  with  anguish  and  vexation, 
and  imbitter  all  his  enjoyments ; they  mar  the  plea- 
sures of  the  day,  and  interrupt  the  repose  of  the  night. 
Solomon  describes  these  men  : “ They  sleep  not,  ex- 
cept they  have  done  mischief ; their  sleep  is  taken  awa}', 
except  they  cause  some  to  fall.*' 

On  the  other  hand,  the  meek  and  peaceable  man, 
whose  mind  is  brought  to  a compliance  with  this  pre- 
cept, is  above  the  malice  of  his  enemies.  It  is  not  in 
their  power  to  vex  him.  Amidst  all  the  assaults  of 
injuries  and  affronts,  he  is  firm  as  a rock ; which  no 
winds  can  shake,  no  waves  remove.  He  is  happy  in 
the  calmness  and  serenity  of  his  spirit ; and  is  sure,  by , 
his  patience  and  friendly  behavior,  either  to  convert, 


* 1 Cor.  ii.  14.  bProv.  viii.  9.  ® Prov.  iv.  16. 


108  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL* 

or  shame  his  adversary.  And  then,  the  consciousness  of 
performing  his  duty,  and  the  assurance  of  future  reward, 
afford  him  a pleasure  infinitely  more  pure  and  solid  than 
any  can  expect,  by  indulging  and  gratifying  their  venge- 
ful humor. 

The  advantages  of  this  duty  will  more  clearly  appear, 
when  we  take  a view  of  those  prejudices  which  com- 
monly are  entertained  against<it. 

First,  then,  some  cry  out  upon  this  precept,  as  en- 
joining impossibilities;  as  doing  violence  to  the  very 
constitution  of  nature  ; as  obliging  men  to  a debt  that 
no  man  is  able  to  pay.  They  will  tell  you,  that  it  is  as 
easy  to  hate  ourselves  as  to  love  our  enemies ; to  love 
pain  as  to  bear  an  injury  meekly  : flesh  and  blood  can- 
not endure  it.  What  arrogance  and  presumption  is 
this,  thus  to  impeach  the  divine  laws  ! It  is  impossible  ; 
therefore  God  should  not  have  commanded  it.  Such  is 
the  reasoning.  Were  it  not  far  more  rational  to  argue 
thus  : It  is  indispensably  commanded,  therefore  it  must 
needs  be  possible  ? And  so  it  has  been,  to  all  good  men 
that  ever  lived : and  so  it  will  be,  by  God’s  assistance, 
to  all  who  make  it  their  study.  Flesh  and  blood  can- 
not do  it.  True  enough.  But  then  take  this  into  the 
account.  Flesh  and  blood  shall  never  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  It  is,  indeed,  against  the  propen- 
sities of  our  corrupt  nature  ; but  it  is  the  work  of  Chris- 
tians to  mortify  their  corruptions.  And,  if  we  think 
it  impossible,  at  the  command  of  God  and  for  the  pur- 
chase of  heaven,  to  love  an  enemy,  and  pardon  an  injury, 
how  w^ould  we  bear  those  hard  trials  which  Christians 
have  suffered  by  the  cruelty  of  persecutors  ? Whether 
is  it  easier  to  suffer  a wrong,  or  to  give  our  body  to  be 
burned  ? Certainly,  when  we  have  obeyed  this  precept, 
we  have  not  yet  resisted  unto  blood ; and,  therefore, 
that  obedience  can  never  be  impossible,  since  harder 
things  may  be  expected  from  us.  Therefore  seriously 
set  about  the  work,  and  endeavor  to  bring  your  minds 
to  a compliance  with  it ; and  then,  your  own  experi- 
ence shall  confute  these  idle  pretences,  and  evince  the 
possibility  of  the  performance. 

Another  prejudice  against  this  precept,  is,  that  it 
seems  to  encourage  injuries,  by  hopes  of  impunity  and 
reward  ; giving  the  delinquent  occasion  to  expect  kind- 


DISC.  II.]  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  109 

ness  and  love,  instead  of  the  punishment  which  he  de- 
serves ; and  so,  we  should  draw  upon  ourselves  a se- 
cond injury,  by  not  requiting  the  first. 

But  we  have  already  told  you,  that  this  precept  does 
not  forbid  the  exercise  of  justice,  by  those  to  whom  the 
sword  is  committed,  when  the  public  security  calls  for 
it.  As  a parent  may  at  once  love  and  correct  his  child, 
so  may  a judge  be  in  charity  with  the  person  whom  he 
punishes.  And,  though  it  should  be  granted,  that  by 
pardoning  injuries  that  are  past  we  expose  ourselves  to 
new  ones,  yet  would  this  amount  to  no  more,  than  our 
suffering  hardships  by  obedience  to  God  ; which,  1 
hope,  is  not  sufficient  to  dispense  with  our  duty.  But, 
truly,  the  fact  stands  not  commonly  thus : for  if  we  con- 
sult either  our  own  observation,  or  the  experience  of 
others,  we  shall  find  that  meek  and  charitable  persons 
are  most  seldom  exposed  to  injuries,  or  engaged  in 
troubles.  He  must  needs  be  a desperately  wicked  per- 
son, who  will  offer  a second  injury,  to  one  who  has  re- 
quited the  first  with  kindness  and  love.  Such  a sweet 
disposition  will  mollify  the  hardest  hearts,  and  charm 
the  most  froward  humors ; especially  if  we  carry  our- 
selves with  such  prudence  and  discretion,  as  may  testify 
that  we  are  actuated  by  a noble  and  generous  charity, 
not  by  a stupid  insensibility.  How  often  does  a soft 
answer  turn  away  wrath,  and  the  overlooking  of  an 
injury  prevent  further  trouble;  throwing  water  upon 
the  spark,  before  it  break  forth  into  a flame  ? Hence, 
if  we  look  upon  meek  and  quiet  persons,  we  shall  ordi- 
narily find  them  happy  in  the  peace  of  their  families, 
and  in  the  favor  and  kindness  of  all  their  neighbors : 
whereas,  the  angry,  quarrelsome,  and  malicious  person, 
is  an  eye-sore  to  all  about  him  ; his  neighbors  shun 
him,  his  servants  dread  him,  and  all  abhor  and  avoid 
him.  And  therefore  the  observation  of  this  precept  of 
our  Lord,  is  so  far  from  exposing  us  to  new  injuries, 
that,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  it  will  prove  the  best  means 
to  secure  our  tranquillity.  Peace  shall  be  the  reward 
of  a peaceable  temper. 

But,  lastly,  some  will  tell  us,  that  the  love  of  enemies 
and  the  pardoning  of  injuries,  are  inconsistent  with  the 
principles  of  honor  ; and  will  expose  us  to  contempt 
and  derision.  But,  alas  ! to  what  a sad  pass  are  we 

10 


110  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL. 

come,  if  neither  reason  nor  religion  may  prescribe  the 
rules  of  honor  ; if  our  notions  of  it,  must  be  taken  from 
the  language  of  the  sons  of  Belial,  of  strife  and  vio- 
lence ; if,  to  imitate  the  Deity  in  his  most  glorious  at- 
tributes of  mercy  and  forgiveness,  and  to  become  per- 
fect as  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect,  be  ac- 
counted a base  and  dishonorable  thing ; and  if,  from 
this  vain,  imaginary,  fantastic  shadow  of  reputation, 
we  will  violate  all  laws,  human  and  divine,  and  forfeit 
eternal  happiness.  But  who  are  they,  that  will  think 
the  worse  of  you  for  your  patience  ? Some  vain  empty 
fools,  some  profane  atheistical  wretches,  whose  judg- 
ments are  not  valuable,  nor  their  praise  worth  having. 
Or  what  can  they  say  of  you,  but  that  you  are  meek 
and  lowly,  imitators  of  that  blessed  Master,  whom  we 
profess  to  serve  ? And  why  do  we  own  the  name  of 
Christians,  if  we  be  ashamed  of  the  spirit  and  life  of 
Christianity?  Why  do  we  not  call  ourselves  after  the 
name  of  Cain,  or  Nimrod,  or  some^other  angry  and  re- 
vengeful destroyer,  if  we  esteem  those  qualities  more 
glorious  and  excellent?  But,  if  we  have  any  deference 
for  so  wise  a man  and  so  great  a king  as  Solomon,  he 
will  tell  us,  that,  “ it  is  the  honor  of  a man  to  cease 
from  strife;”  and  that  “he  who  is  slow  to  anger,  is 
better  than  the  mighty ; and  he  who  ruleth  his  spirit, 
better  than  he  who  taketh  a city.” 

Thus,  you  see  how  unreasonable  those  prejudices 
are,  which  keep  men  from  the  practice  of  this  necessary 
duty.  It  remains,  now,  that  we  hint  at  some  help  for 
its  performance. 

The  Heathen  were  pretty  ingenious  in  devising  mo- 
tives of  patience.  They  would  tell  us,  that  ‘ if  we  were 
newly  offended,  it  was  too  soon  to  resent  it ; if  long 
since,  it  was  too  late.  If  the  offender  be  too  strong  for 
us,  it  were  folly  to  contend ; if  he  were  too  weak,  it 
were  a shame.  Are  we  offended  by  a friend,  let  us  re- 
member our  old  friendship  ; if  by  an  enemy,  let  us  do 
him  a kindness,  and  he  will  do  so  no  more.’  But 
Christianity  will  direct  us  to  better  means,  for  compos- 
ing the  soul  into  the  meekness  and  charity  which  it 
requires. 

The  first  T shall  recommend,  is  humility.  Let  us 
learn  to  have  low  thoughts  of  ourselves ; and  then  we 


Disc.  II.]  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  Ill 

shall  both  have  fewer  enemies,  and  be  more  inclined  to 
love  them.  Pride  and  self-conceit  make  us  overrate 
every  petty  injury,  and  incline  us  to  revenge  : but,  if 
we  consider  what  poor  contemptible  things  we  are  in 
ourselves,  and  what  we  have  deserved,  if  not  from  men, 
yet  from  God,  whose  instruments  they  are  for  our  cor- 
rection, we  shall  be  little  concerned  at  what  the  world 
calls  affronts,  and  easily  reconciled  to  those  who  have 
wronged  us. 

Secondly,  let  us  learn  to  have  a low  esteem  of  the 
present  world,  and  all  things  therein  ; and  this  will  cut 
off  the  occasions  of  our  hatred  and  animosities.  Men 
may  wrong  us  in  our  fortune  or  reputation,  but  they 
cannot  rob  us  of  piety  and  virtue  ; of  the  favor  of  God 
and  eternal  happiness.  And  therefore,  if  our  minds  be 
once  raised  above  all  transitory  vanities,  we  cannot 
meet  with  injuries  worth  the  resenting.  If  we  aim  at 
heaven,  and  the  glory  of  another  world,  we  shall  not 
stand  to  quarrel  and  contend  about  any  trifling  interest 
in  our  way  thither. 

Thirdly,  the  frequent  and  serious  thoughts  of  death 
would  conduce  much  to  allay  our  hatred,  and  dispose 
us  to  meekness  and  charity.  Naturalists  tell  us,  that 
when  swarms  of  bees  fight  in  the  air,  they  are  dispersed 
by  throwing  dust  among  them.^  Did  we  in  our  thoughts 
often  reflect  upon  that  dust  to  which  we  must  all  shortly 
return,  we  should  more  easily  lay  down  our  quarrels, 
and  animosities.  While  we  contend  about  small  things, 
little  do  we  consider  that  death  is  coming  on  apace,  and 
will  swallow  up  the  victor  and  the  vanquished  ; him 
that  is  in  the  right,  and  him  that  is  in  the  wrong.  Look 
back  upon  the  private  contentions,  or  public  commo- 
tions, which  infested  the  world  a hundred  years  ago. 
Where  are  they  who  managed  them  ? They  are  all 
gone  down  into  the  dark  and  silent  grave.  Death  has 
decided  their  controversies,  and  within  a few  days  it 
will  do  so  with  ours,  and  send  us  all  to  plead  our  cause 
before  our  great  Judge  ; and  it  will  go  ill  with  us,  if  we 
appear  there  in  malice.  Therefore,  why  should  our 


* ‘ Hi  motus  animorum,  atque  htsc  certamina  tanta 
Pulveris  exigui  jactu  compressa  quiescent.’ 

ViRG.  Georg,  iv.  86. — Ed. 


112  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY  [SCOUGAL, 

hatred  be  long,  since  our  life  is  so  short  ? One  would 
think  we  should  find  better  employment,  for  the  short 
time  we  have  to  spend  here. 

But,  lastly,  and  above  all,  let  us  propose  to  ourselves 
the  blessed  example  of  the  holy  Jesus;  “who,  when 
he  was  reviled,  reviled  not  again  ; when  he  suffered, 
threatened  not ; but  committed  himself  to  him  that 
judgeth  righteously.” 

Let  us  frequently  remember,  what  great  things  he 
has  done  and  suffered,  for  us  poor  sinful  wretches  ; 
even  while  we  were  enemies  and  rebels  to  him  ; how, 
in  all  the  passages  of  his  life,  and  throughout  the  bloody 
scene  of  his  sufferings,  he  was  actuated  by  that  same 
charity  and  love  to  his  enemies  which  he  calls  for  at 
our  hands.  It  was  this,  which  moved  him  to  descend 
from  heaven,  and  clothe  himself  with  the  frailties  of 
our  nature,  and  endure  the  troubles  of  a calamitous  life, 
and  the  pains  of  a bitter  death, — to  deliver  us  from  that 
eternal  misery,  into  which  w^e  had  plunged  ourselves. 
And  shall  not  his  goodness  and  mercy  to  us,  mollify 
our  hearts,  and  overpower  the  corruption  of  our  re- 
vengeful nature,  and  inspire  us  with  earnest  desires 
and  resolutions  to  imitate  his  blessed  example?  After 
all  that  he  has  done  and  suffered  for  us,  can  we  be  guilty 
of  such  a shameful  ingratitude,  as  to  deny  him  this  poor 
satisfaction  and  acknowledgment,  to  pardon  an  enemy 
for  his  sake  ? Has  he  died  for  us,  when  we  were  his 
enemies,  and  shall  we  refuse  to  live  at  peace  with  ours  ? 
Remember,  with  what  patience  he  endured  the  contra- 
diction of  sinners  against  himself;  with  what  humility 
he  condescended  to  wash  the  feet  of  him,  who  was,  at 
the  same  time,  resolved  to  betray  him  : with  what  mild- 
ness he  bare  the  supine  negligence  and  stupidity  of  his 
disciples,  who  slept  in  the  time  of  his  agony.  What 
charity  and  meekness  did  he  evince,  towards  those  who 
sought  his  life  ! He  could  have  called  for  legions  of 
angels  to.  destroy  them,  or  made  the  earth  to  open  her 
mouth  and  swallow  them  up:  but  he  would  not  employ 
his  miraculous  power,  save  only  for  their  good;  restor- 
ing a servant’s  ear,  and  reproving  the  preposterous 
zeal  of  him  who  cut  it  off.  Yen,  while  he  hung  upon 
the  cross  and  was  approaching  to  the  gates  of  death,  all 
the  cruel  pains  of  body  and  far  more  intolerable  press- 


113 


DISC.  II.]  OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES. 

ure  of  spirit,  which  he  then  sustained,  did  not  lessen 
his  tenderness  and  affection  for  his  murderers:  “ Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do.”  Let 
us  be  frequent  and  serious  in  the  meditation  of  these 
things.  And,  if  we  have  any  veneration  for  the  ex- 
ample of  our  Saviour,  and  any  sense  of  his  infinite 
mercy,  this  will  dispose  us  to  the  practice  of  his  pre- 
cepts, and  the  obedience  of  his  laws  ; and  particularly 
to  the  observation  of  this  necessary,  this  reasonable, 
this  delightful  duty,  that  we  love  our  enemies. 


10" 


114 


NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE  [SCOUGALr 


SERMON  III. 

THE  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE  OF  EARLY  AFFLIC- 
TIONS. 


Lam.  iii.  27;  28. 

It  is  good  for  a man^  that  he  hear  the  yoke  in  his  youth.  He  sitteth 
alone  and  keepeth  silence^  because  he  hath  borne  it  upon  him. 

The  great  difference  between  the  maxims  of  the 
world,  and  those  which  religion  proposes,  is  in  nothing 
more  observable,  than  in  taking  the  measures  of  happi- 
ness and  felicity.  The  world  accounts  him  a happy 
man,  who  enjoys  a perpetual  calm  and  sunshine  of 
prosperity;  whose  pleasant  and  joyful  days  are  never 
overcast  with  any  cloud,  nor  his  tranquillity  interrupted 
by  any  disastrous  accident ; who  was  never  acquainted 
with  any  other  change,  but  that  which  brought  him  the 
new  and  fresh  relish  of  succeeding  pleasures  and  en- 
joyments. But  religion  has  taught  us  to  look  upon  this, 
as  a condition  full  of  danger  ; much  more  to  be  pitied 
than  envied  ; to  be  feared,  than  to  be  desired.  It  has 
taught  us,  to  consider  afflictions  as  instances  of  the  Di- 
vine goodness,  as  tokens  and  pledges  of  his  love  ; for 
‘‘  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth,  and  scourgeth 
every  son  whom  he  receiveth;”  and  these  severe  dis- 
pensations are  very  necessary,  and  may  prove  useful 
and  advantageous:  “Blessed  is  the  man,”  saith  the 
psalmist,  “whom  thou  chastenest,  O Lord;”''  “It  is 
good  for  me  that  I have  been  afflicted  ; that  I may 
learn  thy  statutes.”^  And  the  prophet  in  the  text,  “ It 
is  good  for  a man  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth.” 
He  was,  at  this  time,  loaded  with  the  heaviest  weight 
of  trouble  and  sorrow ; what  for  the  public  calamities 
of  his  nation,  and  what  for  his  own  particular  sufferings  : 
“ His  eyes  were  running  down  with  rivers  of  water, 
for  the  destruction  of  the  daughter  of  his  people 


* Psalm  xciv.  12. 


b Psalm  cxix.  71. 


DISC.  III.]  OF  EARLY  AFFLICTIONS.  115 

they  trickled  down  and  ceased  not.  Judah  was  gone 
into  captivity  because  of  affliction  : she  dwelt  among 
the  Heathen,  and  found  no  rest ; all  her  persecutors 
overtook  her  in  the  straits.  The  ways  of  Zion  mourned, 
because  none  came  to  the  solemn  feasts  ; the  young  and 
the  old  were  lying  on  the  ground  in  the  streets  ; the 
virgins  and  young  men  were  fallen  by  the  sword ; and 
the  few  that  remained,  were  starving  for  hunger.  The 
people  sighed,  and  sought  bread  ; they  gave  their  plea- 
sant things  for  meat  to  relieve  their  soul ; the  children 
and  sucklings  swooDed  in  the  streets,  their  soul  was 
poured  out  into  their  mother’s  bosom  ; the  women  ate 
their  fruit,  their  children  of  a span  long.  And  the 
prophet  had  a large  share  in  these  calamities,  both  by 
his  own  interest,  and  by  his  compassion  towards  his 
neighbor : “ I am  the  man,”  saith  he,  ‘‘  that  hath  seen 
affliction,  by  the  rod  of  his  wrath.  Surely  against  me 
is  he  turned;  he  turneth  his  hand  against  me  all  the  day.” 

But,  after  he  had  thus  bemoaned  himself,  and  given 
some  vent  to  his  passion  and  sorrow,  he  puts  a stop  to 
the  current  that  was  grown  too  impetuous,  and  turns 
his  thoughts  another  way.  He  acknowledges  the  jus- 
tice of  God’s  dispensations  ; and  that  it  was  a favor 
they  suffered  no  more  : — “ This  I recall  into  my  mind, 
therefore  have  I hope.  It  is  of  the  Lord’s  mercies  that 
we  are  not  consumed,  because  his  compassions  fail  not. 
They  are  new  every  morning.”  Nay,  when  he  had 
further  pondered  the  matter,  he  finds  himself  indebted 
to  the  goodness  of  God,  even  for  the  afflictions  he  en- 
dured : “It  is  good  for  a man,  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in 
his  youth.” 

The  bearing  of  the  yoke  is  an  easy  and  obvious  me- 
taphor, importing  the  restraint  of  liberty ; when  our 
desires  are  denied,  and  we  have  not  our  wills,  and  can- 
not ramble  up  and  down  as  we  please : and  also,  the 
pressure  of  afflictions,  which  gall  and  torment  us,  under 
which  we  smart  and  groan.  Such  is  the  yoke,  which 
the  prophet  tells  us  it  is  good  for  a man  that  he  bear. 
A strange  doctrine  indeed  to  flesh  and  blood  ; and  how 
few  there  are  that  believe  it ! We  judge  of  things  by 
their  outward  appearance,  and  as  they  affect  us  at  pre- 
sent; “Now  no  affliction  or  chastening  seemeth,  for 


116  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE  [sCOUGAL* 

the  present,  to  be  joyous,  but  grievous  and  we  can- 
not persuade  ourselves,  that  there  is  any  good  in  that 
which  we  feel  to  be  troublesome  and  unpleasant.  But, 
if  we  consult  our  reason  and  our  faith,  they  will  soon 
bring  us  to  the  acknowledgment  of  this  truth,  that 
“ affliction  cometh  not  forth  of  the  dust,  neither  doth 
trouble  spring  out  of  the  ground.”  The  crosses  with 
which  we  meet  are  not  the  effects  of  blind  chance  ; but 
the  results  of  a wise  and  unerring  Providence  ; which 
knows  what  is  fittest  for  us,  and  loves  us  far  better  than 
we  can  love  ourselves.  There  is  no  malice  or  envy 
lodged  in  the  bosom  of  that  blessed  being,  whose  name 
and  nature  is  love.  He  takes  no  delight  in  the  troubles 
and'miseries  of  his  creatures  : “He  doth  not  afflict  will- 
ingly, nor  grieve  the  children  of  men.”  It  were  infi- 
nitely unworthy  of  his  wisdom  and  goodness,  to  please 
himself  in  seeing  such  poor  creatures  as  we  are  tossed 
up  and  down  in  the  world ; to  behold  our  anguish,  and 
hear  our  groans.  It  is  our  happiness  and  welfare  which 
he  designs,  in  all  his  dispensations ; and  he  makes 
choice  of  the  most  proper  and  effectual  means  for  that 
end.  He  sees  us  wandering  out  of  the  way,  ready  to 
ruin  and  undo  ourselves  : and  first  he  essays  to  reduce 
us,  by  milder  and  more  gentle  methods  ; he  tries  our 
mercy  and  goodness;  he  draws  us  with  the  cords  of  love, 
gratitude  and  ingenuousness,  by  all  the  endearments  of 
with  the  bands  of  a man.  But,  if  we  break  all  these 
bands  asunder,  and  cast  away  these  cords  from  us  ; if 
we  abuse  his  goodness,  and  turn  his  grace  into  wanton- 
ness ; then,  not  only  his  justice,  but  his  love,  not  only 
his  hatred  to  sin,  but  his  affection  for  us,  will  oblige 
him  to  alter  his  method,  and  take  the  rod  in  his  hand, 
and  try  what  severity  can  do.  God’s  design  in  afflict- 
ing us  is  excellently  expressed  by  the  author  to  the  He- 
brews : “ He  chasteneth  us  for  our  profit,  that  we  may 
be  partakers  of  his  holiness.”  Holiness  is  the  highest 
perfection,  and  greatest  happiness,  of  which  we  are 
capable  : it  is  a real  participation  of  the  Divine  nature, 
the  image  of  God  drawn  on  the  soul ; and  all  the  chas- 
tisements with  which  we  meet,  are  designed  to  reduce 
us  to  this  blessed  temper,  to  make  us  like  unto  himself; 


® Heb.  xii.  H. 


DISC.  III.]  OF  EARLY  AFFLICTIONS.  117 

and  thereby,  capable  of  being  happy  with  him,  to  all 
eternity.  This  will  more  clearly  appear,  if  we  reflect 
on  the  natural  temper  of  our  minds,  and  the  influence 
which  prosperous  or  adverse  fortune  is  wont  to  have 
upon  them. 

And,  first,  we  are  naturally  proud  and  self-conceited : 
we  have  a high  esteem  of  ourselves,  and  would  have 
every  body  else  value  and  esteem  us.  This  disease  is 
very  deeply  rooted  in  our  fallen  nature  : it  is,  ordina- 
rily, the  first  sin  that  betrays  itself  in  the  little  actions 
and  passions  of  children ; and,  frequently,  the  last  which 
religion  enables  us  to  overcome.  And  such  is  its  maligni- 
ty, that  it  renders  us  odious  and  vile,  in  the  sight  both  of 
God  and  man.  It  cannot  but  be  infinitely  displeasing 
to  that  great  and  glorious  Majesty,  to  see  such  silly 
creatures,  whom  he  brought  forth  out  of  nothing,  who 
are  every  moment  ready  to  return  into  nothing  again, 
and  who  have  nothing  of  their  own  but  folly,  and  mi- 
sery, and  sin, — to  see  such  creatures,  either  so  blind  as 
to  value  themselves,  or  so  unreasonable  as  to  desire 
others  to  value  them.  Good  men  must  needs  hate  us 
Tor  it,  because  God  does  so  ; and  evil  men  hate  us  for 
it,  because  they  are  themselves  proud,  and  therefore  are 
jealous  of  the  attempts  of  others  at  self-exaltation,  as 
tending  to  depress  and  diminish  them.  Pride  alone,  is 
the  source  and  fountain  of  almost  all  the  disorders  in 
the  world  ; of  all  our  troubles,  and  of  all  our  sins.  And 
^ve  shall  never  be  truly  happy,  or  truly  good,  till  we 
come  to  think  nothing  of  ourselves,  and  be  content  that 
all  the  world  think  nothing  of  us.  Now,  nothing  has  a 
more  natural  tendency  to  foment  and  heighten  this 
natural  corruption,  than  constant  prosperity  and  suc- 
cess. The  psalmist,  speaking  of  the  prosperity  of  the 
wicked,  who  are  not  in  trouble  as  others,  neither  are 
they  plagued  like  other  men,  presently  subjoins  the 
eflect, — “ Therefore  pride  compasseth  them  about,  as  a 
chain. Sanctified  afflictions  contribute  to  abate  and 
mortify  the  pride  of  our  hearts,  to  lance  the  swelling 
imposthume,  to  make  us  sensible  of  our  weakness,  and 
convince  us  of  our  sins.  Thus  “ doth  God  open  the 
ears  of  men,  and  seal  their  instruction,  that  he  may 


d Psalm  Ixxiii.  6. 


118  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE  [SCOUGAL. 

withdraw  man  from  his  purpose,  and  hide  pride  from 
man.e  And  if  they  be  bound  in  fetters,  and  be  holden 
in  cords  of  affliction  ; then  he  showeth  them  their  work, 
and  their  transgressions  that  they  have  exceeded.”^ 
Afflictions  put  us  on  the  search,  both  to  find  out  the 
offences  by  which  we  have  provoked  God,  and  to  make 
us  more  sensible  of  the  heinousness  and  malignity  of 
their  nature  : “I  have  surely  heard  Ephraim  bemoan- 
ing himself  thus.  Thou  hast  chastised  me,  and  I was 
chastised,  as  a bullock  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke : turn 
thou  me,  and  I shall  be  turned  ; for  thou  art  the  Lord 
my  God.  Surely,  after  I was  chastised  I repented  ; and 
after  I was  instructed,  I smote  upon  my  thigh  : I was 
ashamed,  yea,  even  confounded,  because  I did  bear  the 
reproach  of  my  youth.”® 

Another  distemper  of  our  minds,  is  our  too  great 
affection  to  the  world,  and  worldly  things.  We  are  too 
apt  to  set  our  hearts  wholly  upon  them  ; to  take  up  our 
rest,  and  seek  our  happiness  and  satisfaction  in  them. 
But,  though  they  may  well  divert  and  amuse  awhile, 
they  can  never  satisfy,  or  make  us  happy  ; the  souls 
which  He  made  for  Himself,  can  never  rest,  till  they 
return  unto  Him:^  and,  therefore,  he  often  finds  it  neces- 
sary, either  to  remove  our  comforts,  or  imbitter  them ; 
to  put  aloes  and  wormwood  on  the  breasts  of  the  world, 
that  thereby  we  may  wean  ourselves  from  it;  and  finally 
we  may  be  carried  to  the  end  of  our  being,  the  fountain 
of  blessedness  and  felicity.  The  few  and  little  com- 
forts of  this  life,  notwithstanding  all  the  troubles  and 
crosses  with  which  they  are  interlarded,  are  apt  to 
keep  the  hearts,  even  of  good  men,  in  too  great  love  of 
this  world.  What  would  become  of  us,  if  our  whole 
life  were  altogether  prosperous  and  contenting,  with- 
out any  intermixture  of  crosses  and  afflictions?  It  is 
too  probable,  we  should  never  look  any  further  ; but 
conclude,  with  Peter  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration, 
“ Lord,  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here.”  As  Almighty 
God  hath  a very  great  affection  to  us,  so  he  is  very 


Job,  xxxiii.  16,  17.  f Job  xxxvi.  8,  9. 

e Jer.  xxxi.  18,  19. 

h ‘Fecisti  nos  ad  te,  Domine;  et  inquietum  est  cor  nostrum,  donee 
rcquiescat  in  te.’ — S.  Augustin. — Ed. 


DISC.  III.]  OF  EARLY  AFFLICTIONS.  119 

desirous  of  our  love ; not  that  it  brings  any  advantage 
to  him,  but  because  it  is  our  greatest  happiness  and  per- 
fection. He  bestows  his  mercies,  to  gain  our  hearts  : 
but  when  we  begin  to  idolize  the  gifts,  and  forget  the 
giver,  he  becomes  jealous,  and  takes  them  away,  that 
he  may  not  have  any  rival  in  our  affections.  And,  cer- 
tainly, it  is  no  small  advantage  to  have  our  hearts  in 
any  measure  loosened  from  the  world,  disentangled 
from  every  thing  here  below.  He  makes  a good  pur- 
chase, who  obtains  this  privilege,  let  it  cost  him  never 
so  dear.i 

Another  bad  effect,  which  prosperity  is  wont  to  pro- 
duce in  our  corrupt  nature,  is,  that  it  makes  us  forget- 
ful of  God,  and  unthankful  for  his  mercies.  When 
second  causes  answer  our  expectations  and  desires,  we 
are  seldom  wont  to  look  beyond  them  : we  never  regard 
the  fountain,  till  the  cisterns  begin  to  fail.  This  it  was, 
that  made  Agur  pray  against  a plentiful  fortune,  “ lest 
I be  full  and  deny  thee,  and  say.  Who  is  the  Lord  ?” 
When  the  weather  is  fair,  and  the  sails  are  filled  with  a 
prosperous  gale,  the  rough  and  stubborn  mariners  are 
seldom  at  their  devotion  ; but  when  the  storm  is  risen, 
and  the  sea  begins  to  swell,  and  every  wave  threatens 
to  devour  them,  “ then  they  call  to  the  Lord  in  their 
trouble,”  as  on  him  who  can  alone  “ deliver  them  out 
of  their  distress.”  The  psalmist,  speaking  to  the  Jews 
of  their  stiff-necked  and  rebellious  predecessors,  says, 
that  “ when  God  slew  them,  then  they  sought  him  ; 
they  remembered  that  God  was  their  rock,  and  the 
high  God  their redeemer.”if — “In  their  affliction,”  saith 
the  Lord,  by  the  prophet,  “ they  will  seek  me  early.”^ 
I doubt  not,  a great  many  devout  persons  will  acknow- 
ledge, that  it  was  some  affliction  or  other  which  first 
taught  them  to  pray.  And,  as  afflictions  contribute  to 
make  us  remember  our  dependence  on  God,  and  then 
excite  us  to  seek  unto  him  ; so,  also,  they  render  us 
more  sensible  of  our  obligations  to  him,  and  more  thank- 
ful for  the  mercies  which  he  has  bestowed  on  us.  We 
are  so  dull  and  insensible,  that  we  seldom  value  any  of 
the  Divine  mercies  till  we  find  what  it  is  to  want  them. 


i ‘ Q^iiocunque  pretio,  bene  emitur.’ 
k Psalm  Ixxviii.  34,  35.  i Hbsea  v.  15. 


120  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE  [SCOUGAL. 

We  put  very  little  value  on  our  food  and  raiment,  and 
the  ordinary  means  of  our  subsistence,  unless  we  have 
been  sometimes  pinched  with  want.  We  consider  not 
how  much  w^e  are  indebted  to  God  for  preserving  our 
friends,  till  some  of  them  be  removed  from  us.  How 
little  do  we  prize  our  health,  if  we  have  never  had  expe- 
rience of  sickness  or  pain ! Where  is  the  man  who  seri- 
ously blesses  God  for  his  nightly  quiet  and  repose  ? 
And  yet,  if  sickness  or  trouble  deprive  us  of  them,  we 
then  find  them  to  have  been  a great  and  invaluable  mer- 
cy, and  that  it  is  God  who  giveth  his  beloved  sleep. 

Once  more,  prosperity  renders  us  insensible  of  the 
miseries  and  calamities  of  others.  Those  “ who  were 
at  ease  in  Zion,  did  not  grieve  for  the  afflictions  of  Jo- 
seph.” But  afflictions  soften  the  heart,  and  make  it 
more  tender  and  kindly ; and  we  are  always  most  ready 
to  compassionate  those  griefs,  which  ourselves  have 
sometimes  endured  : the  sufferings  of  others  make  the 
deepest  impressions  upon  us,  when  they  put  us  in  mind 
of  our  own.  It  is  mentioned,  as  a powerful  motive  to 
engage  the  children  of  Israel  to  be  kind  and  merciful 
to  strangers,  that  “ they  knew  the  heart  of  a stranger, 
having  been  strangers  themselves  in  Egypt.”  Now, 
this  tender  and  compassionate  temper  well  becomes  a 
Christian,  whose  duty  it  is,  to  weep  with  those  that 
weep,  and  to  have  as  deep  a sense  and  feeling  of  the 
griefs  of  others,  as  he  is  wont  to  have  of  his  own. 

These  and  many  more  advantages,  do  sanctified  and 
well-improved  afflictions  bring  to  a Christian ; on  ac- 
count of  which,  “ it  is  good  for  him,  that  he  hath  borne 
the  yoke.”  But  I hasten  to  that  which  is  mentioned 
in  the  text.  Only,  by  the  way,  that  I may  not  need  to 
return,  let  me  here  take  notice  of  the  season  which  is 
here  mentioned,  fittest  for  a man  to  bear  affliction  : “It 
is  good  for  a man  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth.” 

We  are  all  willing  to  put  off  the  evil  day ; and,  if  we 
must  needs  bear  the  yoke,  we  would  choose  to  have  it 
delayed,  till  we  grow  old.  We  think  it  sad,  to  have 
our  morning  overcast  with  clouds,  to  meet  with  a storm 
before  we  have  well  launched  forth  from  the  shore. 
We  are  wont  to  indulge  and  applaud  children  and  young 
folks,  in  their  frolics  and  jovial  humors;  we  will  tell 
them  they  will  have  time  enough  for  cares  and  troubles, 


ISC.  III.]  OF  EARLY  AFFLICTIONS.  121 

hen  they  grow  older  ; we  turn  that  irony  of  Solo- 
.^lon’s  into  a serious  advice,  “ Rejoice,  O young  man, 
in  thy  youth,  and  walk  in  the  ways  of  thy  heart,  and  the 
sight  of  thine  eyes.”  But  the  divine  wisdom,  which 
knows  what  is  fit  for  us,  often  makes  choice  of  our 
younger  years,  as  the  most  proper  to  accustom  us  to 
the  bearing  of  the  yoke.  And  a little  consideration 
will  make  us  discover  the  advantages  of  this  season, 
for  suffering  afflictions  ; they  being,  at  that  time,  most 
necessary,  most  tolerable,  and  most  advantageous. 
First,  I say,  they  are  most  necessary.  For  youth  is 
the  time  of  our  life  which  implies  the  greatest  danger 
of  our  running  into  wild  and  extravagant  courses  : our 
blood  is  then  hot,  and  our  spirits  unstayed  and  giddy ; 
we  have  too  much  pride  to  be  governed  by  others  ; and 
too  little  wisdom  to  govern  ourselves.  The  yoke  is 
then,  especially,  needful  to  tame  our  wildness,  and  re- 
duce us  to  a due  stayedness  and  composure  of  mind. 
Then,  also,  it  is  most  supportable.  The  body  is  strong 
and  healthful,  less  apt  to  be  affected  with  the  troubles 
of  the  mind  ; the  spirit,  stout  and  vigorous,  will  not  so 
easily  break,  and  sink  under  them.  Old  age  is  a bur- 
then, and  will  soon  faint  under  any  supervenient  load. 
The  smallest  trouble  is  enough  to  bring  down  grey 
hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  And  therefore,  since 
we  must  meet  with  afflictions,  it  is  certainly  a favora- 
ble circumstance  to  have  them  at  that  time  of  our  life 
when  we  are  most  able  to  endure  them.  And  lastly, 
the  lessons  which  afflictions  teach  us,  are  then  most  ad- 
vantageous, when  we  learn  them  betimes  ; that  we  may 
have  the  use  of  them  in  the  conduct  of  our  after  lives. 
An  early  engagement  in  the  ways  of  religion  is  a great 
felicity ; and  the  means  by  which  this  is  to  be  effected, 
can  never  be  too  soon  administered.  Youth  is  more 
soft  and  pliable,  and  evil  dispositions  are  more  easily 
cured  before  time  and  custom  have  hardened  us  in  them. 
A tree  needs  little  force  to  bend  it  when  it  is  young ; 
and  there  needs  the  less  of  the  rod  if  the  child  be 
brought  under  discipline  betimes.  And  thus,  on  many 
accounts,  “ it  is  good  for  a man,  to  bear  the  yoke  in  his 
youth.” 

We  proceed  to  the  particular  advantage  of  afflictions^ 
which  is  mentioned  in  the  text : “ He  sitteth  alone  and 

11 


122  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE  [SCOUGAL. 

keepeth  silence,  because  he  hath  borne  it  upon  him.” 
The  words  are  capable  of  a twofold  interpretation  ; and 
both  meanings  suit  well  with  the  purpose  : for,  we  may 
either  understand  them  properly,  of  solitude  and  si- 
lence ; or  metaphorically,  of  patience  and  quiet  sub- 
mission ; both  of  which  are  the  good  effects  of  sancti- 
fied and  well-improved  afflictions : and,  accordingly,  we 
shall  say  something  to  both. 

Nature  has  made  us  sociable  creatures;  but  corrup- 
tion has  carried  this  inclination  to  excess  : so  that  most 
persons  think  it  an  intolerable  burthen,  to  be,  for  any 
considerable  time,  alone.  Though  they  love  them- 
selves out  of  measure,  yet  they  cannot  endure  their 
own  conversation  ; they  had  rather  be  hearing,  and  dis- 
coursing of  the  most  naughty  and  trivial  things,  than 
be  sitting  alone,  arid  holding  their  peace.  Outward 
prosperity  heightens  this  humor.  When  the  heart  is 
dilated  with  joy,  it  seeks  to  vent  itself  in  every  com- 
pany. When  a man  is  free  from  trouble  and  cares,  he 
thinks  of  nothing  but  how  to  please  himself  with  va- 
riety of  diversions  and  conversations.  Crosses,  on 
the  other  hand,  render  a man  pensive  and  solitary : 
they  stop  the  mouth,  and  bind  up  the  tongue,  and  in- 
cline the  person  to  be  much  alone.  Sadness  makes  his 
company  disagreeable  to  others,  and  he  finds  theirs  as 
little  agreeable  to  him  : “ He  sitteth  alone  and  keepeth 
silence,  because  he  hath  borne  it  upon  him.”  Thus 
the  same  prophet  said,  “ I sat  not  in  the  assembly  of 
the  mockers,  nor  rejoiced  : I sat  alone,  because  of  thine 
hand.”^ 

Now,  he  who  considers,  on  the  one  hand,  the  guilt 
which  we  are  \ront  to  contract,  and  the  prejudice  which 
we  sustain,  by  too  much  conversation  with  others,  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  excellent  improvement  which 
we  may  make  of  solitude  and  retirement,  will  account 
it  a good  effect  of  afflictions,  that  they  dispose  us  to  be 
alone.  In  considering  the  evils  of  frequent  conversation, 
we  are  not  to  prosecute  the  grosser  and  more  scandal- 
ous vices  of  the  tongue.  It  might  seem  a poor  commen- 
^dation  of  solitude  and  silence,  that  a man  is  not  swear- 
ing, or  lying,  or  scolding,  or  talking  profanely,  when 


> Jer.  XV.  17. 


DISC.  iii.J  OF  Early  afflictions.  123 

he  is  alone : a man  may  converse  enough,  and  keep 
himself  free  from  these.  We  rather  choose  to  mention 
such  evils  as  are  wont  to  be  less  noticed,  and  can  be 
with  more  difficulty  avoided. 

And  first,  experience  may  teach  us  that  much  con- 
versation ordinarily  begets  a remissness  and  dissolution 
of  spirit ; that  it  slackens  and  relaxes  the  bent  of  our 
minds,  and  disposes  us  to  softness  and  easy  compliances. 
We  find  it  hard  enough  at  any  time  to  compose  our 
spirits  to  that  stayedness  and  severity  which  religion 
requires ; but  if  we  be  too  much  in  company,  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  maintain  it.  That  cheerfulness  and  com- 
plaisance which  are  judged  necessary  to  render  con- 
versation agreeable,  easily  degenerate  into  levity  and 
sin ; and  we  are  very  ready  to  displease  our  Maker, 
when  we  are  too  intent  on  pleasing  our  friends.  This" 
loose  frame  and  dissipation  of  mind  which  society  occa- 
sions, made  a wise  man  complain,  that  he  always  came 
out  of  company  less  a man.™ 

Another  prejudice  which  we  receive  from  society  is, 
that  it  fills  our*  minds  with  noxious  images,  and  fortifies, 
our  corrupt  notions  and  opinions  of  things.  Our  hearts 
are  naturally  too  much  addicted  to  the  things  of  the 
world ; we  regard  them  too  much,  and  place  too  high 
a value  upon  them;  and  the  discourses  which  we  hear 
redouble  the  temptation,  by  bringing  them  continually 
into  our  thoughts,  and  setting  them  off  to  the  greatest 
advantage.  When  we  are  alone,  in  a sober  temper,  and 
take  time  to  reflect  and  consider  of  things,  we  are 
sometimes  persuaded  of  the  vanity  and  worthlessness 
of  all  those  glittering  trifles  by  which  the  generality  of 
mankind  are  so  sadly  bewitched : but  when  we  come 
abroad  and  listen  to  the  common  talk,  and  hear  people 
speak  of  greatness,  and  riches,  and  honor,  with  concern 
and  admiration,  we  quickly  forget  our  more  sober  and 
deliberate  thoughts,  and  suffer  ourselves  to  be  carried 
away  with  the  stream  of  the  common  opinion.  And, 
though  the  effects  be  not  so  sudden  and  observable,  yet 
these  discourses  are  still  making  some  secret  and  insen- 
sible impressions  upon  us. 


w ‘ Ex  hominum  consortio,  semper  venio  minus  homo.’ — Seneca. 


124 


NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE  [SCOUGAL. 


Thus  also  is  our  judgment  corrupted  about  the  quali- 
ties and  endowments  of  the  mind.  Courage  and  gallan- 
try, wit  and  eloquence,  and  other  accomplishments  of 
this  nature,  are  magnified  and  extolled  beyond  all  mea- 
sure ; whereas  humility,  and  meekness,  and  devotion, 
and  all  those  Christian  graces  which  render  a soul  truly 
excellent  and  lovely,  are  spoken  of  as  mean  and  con- 
temptible things ; for,  though  men  have  not  the  impu- 
dence formally  to  make  the  comparison,  and  prefer  the 
former,  yet  their  very  air  and  way  of  discoursing  about 
these  things,  sufficiently  testifies  their  opinion.  With 
what  affection  and  concernment  will  they  represent  a 
gallant  or  learned  man ; but  how  faintly  do  they  utter 
the  character  of  a good  man ! And  s6,  in  censuring 
men’s  failings,  they  exaggerate  the  smallest  instances  of 
w^eakness  or  imprudence,  but  speak  lightly  enough  of  the 
greatest  crimes.  Drunkenness  and  impurity  are  men- 
tioned in  such  terms,  as  express  little  sense  of  their 
heinous  nature,  and  tend  to  lessen  the  horror  in  which  we 
should  hold  them.  Ambition  and  revenge,  and  such  other 
plausible  vices,  are  rather  allowed  than  condemned. 
And  while  we  converse  in  the  world,  and  are  accustomed 
to  such  representations  of  things,  our  judgments  are 
thereby  exceedingly  corrupted,  and  we  entertain  false 
and  pernicious  maxims.  And  so  hard  it  is  to  guard  our- 
selves against  the  contagion,  that  we  had  better  sit  alone 
and  keep  silence,  than  be  continually  exposed  to  the 
temptation. 

I shall  mention  but  another  of  those  evils  with  which 
our  conversation  is  commonly  attended.  The  most 
ordinary  subjects  of  our  entertainments  are  the  faults 
and  follies  of  others.  We  meet,  and  talk,  and  fall  to 
describe  the  life  and  deportment  of  others.^  Were  this 
one  theme  of  discourse  discharged,  we  should  often  find 
but  little  to  say.  I scarcely  know  any  fault  of  which 
good  persons  are  so  frequently  guilty,  and  so  little  sen- 
sible. They  know,  perhaps,  the  truth  of  the  things 
asserted,  and  they  have  no  malicious  design  in  reporting 
them ; they  tell  them  only  as  they  do  the  public  news, 
to  divert  themselves  and  gratify  their  friends.  But 
would  we  consult  our  own  hearts,  and  apply  the  great 


Itur  in  verba,  sermo  seritur,  vita  aliena  describitur.’ 


DISC.  III.] 


OF  EARLY  AFFLICTIONS. 


125 


rule  of  righteousness,  of  doing  unto  others  as  we  would 
be  done  unto  ourselves,  we  should  soon  be  convinced 
that  there  is  much  more  guilt  and  sinfulness  in  such 
discourses  than  we  are  ready  to  apprehend.  How  ill 
do  we  take  it  to  have  our  own  failings  thus  exposed, 
and  to  hear  that  any  person  has  made  as  bold  with  us 
as  we  are  wont  to  make  with  others  ? Again,  how  un- 
willing would  we  be  that  the  persons  of  whom  we  speak 
so  freely,  should  overhear  our  discourse  or  be  informed 
of  it.  Now,  if  the  practice  had  nothing  blameable  in  it, 
why  should  we  be  so  shy  to  avow  it  ? 

I have  only  hinted  at  these  things ; but  he  who  shall 
seriously  ponder  them,  will  readily  acknowledge  that 
there  is  no  little  mischief  even  in  those  entertainments 
which  pass  for  very  innocent  in  the  world ; and  that  he 
shuns  much  guilt  and  many  snares,  who  sits  alone  and 
keeps  silence.  But  solitude  and  retirement  not  only 
deliver  us  from  these  inconveniences,  but  also  afford 
very  excellent  opportunities  for  bettering  our  souls. 
Those  hours  which  we  misspend  in  needless  visits  and 
idle  talk,  if  rightly  improved,  might  set  us  a great  way 
forward  on  our  journey  to  heaven.  While  we  are  too 
busy  in  making  or  entertaining  acquaintance  with  men, 
we  often  fall  out  of  acquaintance  both  with  God  and 
ourselves. 

The  most  profane  and  irreligious  persons  will  find 
some  serious  thoughts  rise  in  their  minds,  if  they  be  much 
alone.  And  the  more  any  person  is  advanced  in  piety  and 
goodness,  the  more  will  he  delight  in  retirement,  and 
the  more  benefit  will  he  receive  from  it.  Then  it  is 
that  the  devout  soul  takes  its  highest  flight  in  divine 
contemplations,  and  makes  its  nearest  approaches  to 
God.  I find  the  vulgar  Latin  renders  the  words  of  the 
text,®  “ The  solitary  person  will  sit  still  and  hold  his 
peace,  because  he  has  lifted  himself  up  above  himself 
has  raised  his  spirit  above  his  ordinary  pitch,?  ‘In 
solitude,’  says  one  of  the  fathers,  ‘we  breathe,  as  it 
were,  in  a purer  air ; heaven  is  more  open  unto  us,  and 
God  is  more  familiar  and  frequent  in  his  visits.  To 
which  purpose,  some  have  applied  that  passage  of  the 


® Sedebit  solitarius  et  tacebit,  quia  levavit  se,  supra  se.” 
p ‘ In  solitudine,  aer  purior  coelum  apertius,  familiarior  Deus,^ 

IF 


126  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE  [SCOUGAE.. 

prophet  Hosea,  “ Behold,  I will  allure  her,  and  bring 
her  into  the  wilderness,  and  there  speak  comfortably 
unto  her or,  as  the  original  imports,  ‘ I will  speak 
unto  her  heart.’  That  rule  which  our  Saviour  gives  for 
our  devotion,  to  enter  into  our  closet  and  shut  the  door 
behind  us,  is  as  necessary  to  preserve  us  from  distraction 
as  from  vanity  and  ostentation.  When  we  have  retired 
as  much  as  we  can  from  the  world,  we  still  carry  too 
much  of  it  along  with  us.  The  images  of  things  suffi- 
ciently persecute  and  disturb  us,  though  we  be  not  ex- 
posed to  the  objects  themselves.  Our  blessed  Saviour 
thought  not  the  mountains  and  deserts  retired  enough 
for  his  devotions,  but  would  add  the  darkness  and  silence 
of  the  night.  Little  does  the  world  understand  those 
secret  and  hidden  pleasures,  which  devout  souls  feel, 
when  having  got  out  of  the  noise  and  hurry  of  the 
world,  they  sit  alone  and  keep  silence,  contemplating 
the  Divine  perfections  which  shine  so  conspicuously  in 
all  his  works  of  wonder ; admiring  his  greatness,  and 
wisdom,  and  love,  and  revolving  his  favors  towards 
themselves ; opening  before  him  their  griefs  and  their 
cares,  and  disburdening  their  souls  into  his  bosom ; 
protesting  their  allegiance  and  subjection  unto  him,  and 
telling  him  a thousand  times  that  they  love  him;  and 
then,  listening  unto  the  voice  of  God  within  their  hearts, 
that  still  and  quiet  voice,  which  is  not  wont  to  be  heard 
in  the  streets,  that  they  may  hear  what  God  the  Lord 
will  speak : for  he  will  speak  peace  unto  his  people, 
and  to  his  saints ; and  will  visit  them  with  the  expres- 
sions of  his  love.  No  wonder  if  those  blessed  souls 
who  have  tasted  the  pleasures  of  holy  retirement,  and 
found  themselves,  as  it  were,  in  the  suburbs  of  heaven, 
grow  weary  of  company  and  affairs,  and  long  for  the 
returning  of  those  happy  hours,  as  the  hireling  for  the 
shades  of  the  evening:  no  wonder  they  pity  the  foolish 
busy  world,  who  spend  their  days  in  vanity,  and  know 
not  what  it  is  indeed  to  live. 

But  here  I would  not  be  Inistaken,  as  if  I recom- 
mended a total  and  constant  retirement,  or  persuaded 
men  to  forsake  the  world,  and  betake  themselves  unto 
deserts.  No,  certainly  ; we  must  not  abandon  the  sta- 
tions wherein  God  hath  placed  us,  nor  render  ourselves 
useless  to  mankind.  Solitude  has  its  temptations,  and 


DISC.  III.]  OF  EARLY  AFFLICTIONS,  127 

we  may  sometimes  be  very  bad  company  to  ourselves. 
It  was  not  without  reason,  that  one  wise  man  warned 
another,  who  professed  to  delight  in  conversing  with 
himself,  ‘ Have  a care,  that  you  be  keeping  company 
with  a good  man.’q  Abused  solitude  may  whet  men’s 
passions,  and  irritate  their  desires,  and  prompt  them  to 
things  which  company  would  restrain.  And  this  made 
one  say,  that  ‘ he  who  is  much  alone,  must  either  be  a 
saint  or  a devil.’  Melancholy,  which  inclines  men  most 
to  retirement,  is  often  too  much  nourished  and  fomented 
by  it ; and  there  is  a peevish  and  sullen  loneliness, 
which  some  people  affect  under  their  troubles,  whereby 
they  feed  on  discontented  thoughts,  and  find  a kind  of 
perverse  pleasure  in  refusing  to  be  comforted.  But  all 
this  says  no  more,  but  that  good  things  may  be  abused  : 
that  excess  or  disorder  may  turn  the  most  wholesome 
food  into  poison.  And  therefore,  though  I would  not 
indifferently  recommend  much  solitude  unto  all ; yet, 
surely,  I may  say,  it  were  good  for  the  most  part  of 
men,  that  they  were  less  in  company,  and  more  alone. 

Thus  much  of  the  first  and  proper  sense,  of  sitting 
alone  and  keeping  silence.  We  told  you  it  might  also 
import,  a quiet  and  patient  subrnission  to  the  will  of 
God  ; the  laying  of  our  hand  on  our  mouth,  that  no 
expression  of  murmur  or  discontent  may  escape  us  : 
“ 1 was  dumb,”  said  the  psalmist,  “ I opened  not  my 
mouth,  because  thou  didst  it.”**  And  the  prophet  de- 
scribes our  Saviour’s  patience,  that  “ he  was  oppressed, 
and  was  afflicted,  yet  he  opened  not  his  mouth  : he  was 
brought  as  a lamb  to  the  slaughter,  and  as  a sheep  be- 
fore the  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  opened  not  his  mouth.”® 
Indeed,  a modest  and  unaffected  silence,  is  a good  way 
to  express  our  submission  to  the  hand  of  God,  under 
afflictions.  The  Heathen  moralists,  who  pretended 
much  to  patience,  could  never  hold  their  peace;  hut 
desired  always  to  signalize  themselves  by  some  fetches 
of  wit,  and  expressions  of  unusual  courage.  But,  cer- 
tainly, the  mute  and  quiet  Christian  behaves  himself 
much  better.  That  eloquent  and  expressive  silence 
says  more,  than  all  their  vain  and  stoical  boastings. 


^ ‘ Vide,  ut  cum  homine  probo.’ 

? Psalm  xxxix.  9,  ® Isaiah  liii.  7. 


ADVANTAGE  OF  EARLY  AFFLICTIONS.  [SCOUGAL, 

We  cannot  now  insist  at  any  length  on  this  Christian 
duty,  of  patience  and  submission  to  the  will  of  God  ; 
we  shall  only  say  two  things  of  it,  which  the  text  im- 
ports.  First,  That  this  lesson  is  most  commonly 
learned  in  the  school  of  afflictions  : “ He  sitteth  alone 
and  keepeth  silence,  because  he  hath  borne  it  upon 
him.”  In  that  forecited  place  of  Jeremiah, ^ Ephraim, 
bemoaning  himself,  acknowledges  “ that  he  had  been 
as  a bullock  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke which  makes 
the  greater  reluctancy  against  it.  Children  that  are 
much  indulged,  are  the  more  impatient  if  they  come  to 
be  crossed ; and  there  is  too  much  of  the  child  in  us 
all.  The  apostle  tells  us,  that  “ tribulation  worketh 
patience.”"  Custom  makes  every  thing  more  tolerable ; 
and,  if  it  please  God  to  sanctify  the  first  stroke,  the 
second  is  received  with  the  greater  submission.  The 
other  thing  which  I have  to  say  on  this  duty,  is,  that 
this  advantage  of  afflictions  is  very  great  and  desirable; 
that  it  is,  indeed,  very  good  for  a man  to  have  borne  the 
yoke  in  his  youth,  if  he  has  thereby  learned  to  sit  alone 
and  keep  silence,  when  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  upon 
him.  There  is  nothing  more  acceptable  unto  God, 
no  object  more  lovely  and  amiable  in  his  eyes,  than  a 
soul  thus  prostrate  before  him,  thus  entirely  resigned 
to  his  holy  will,  thus  quietly  submitting  to  his  severest 
dispensations.  Nor  is  it  less  advantageous  to  ourselves : 
it  sweetens  the  bitterest  occurrences  of  our  life,  and 
makes  us  feel  an  inward  and  secret  pleasure,  notwith- 
standing all  the  smart  of  affliction  ; so  that  the  yoke 
becomes  supportable;  the  rod  itself  comforts  us  ; and 
we  find  much  more  delight  in  suffering  the  will  of  God, 
than  if  he  had  granted  us  our  own. 

Now,  to  this  God,  who  loveth  us,  and  correcteth  us 
for  our  profit,  that  we  may  be  partakers  of  his  holiness 
and,  thereby,  of  his  happiness, — to  Him,  Father,  Son, 
and  blessed  Spirit,  be  all  honor,  praise,  and  glory,  now 
and  for  ever.  Amen. 


‘ Ch.  xxxi.  18. 


Romans  v.  3. 


DISC.  IV.] 


A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED. 


129 


SERMON  IV. 

THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED. 


Luke  xiii.  23. 

Then  said  one  unto  him ; — Lord,  are  there  few  that  he  saved  7 

Those  who  have  so  much  charity  and  goodness,  as  to 
be  nearly  touched  with  the  interests  of  mankind,  can- 
not but  be  more  especially  concerned  about  their  ever- 
lasting condition  ; and  very  anxious  to  know  what  shall 
become  of  poor  mortals,  when  this  scene  is  over : when 
they  shall  cease  to  appear  on  the  stage  of  the  world, 
being  called  off  to  give  an  account  of  their  deportment 
on  it.  And,  since  we  are  assured  that  there  are  differ- 
ent and  very  opposite  states  of  departed  souls,  some 
being  admitted  into  happiness,  and  others  doomed  to 
misery,  beyond  any  thing  that  we  can  conceive,  this 
may  suggest  a further  inquiry:  how  is  mankind  likely 
to  be  divided  ? shall  heaven  or  hell  have  the  greater 
share  ? Such  a laudable  curiosity  as  this,  it  was,  that 
induced  one  of  our  blessed  Saviour’s  followers  to  pro- 
pose the  question  in  the  text,  “Lord,  are  there  few  that 
be  saved  ?” 

Our  Saviour  had  been  lately  foretelling  the  great  suc- 
cess the  Gospel  should  have : how,  like  a little  leaven, 
that  quickly  ferments  the  whole  mass  into  which  it 
is  received,  Christianity  should  soon  propagate  itself 
through  the  world,  and  many  nations  should  embrace 
the  profession  of  it.  This  disciple  it  seems,  was  desi- 
rous to  know  whether  the  efficacy  should  be  answerable 
to  the  extent  ? Whether  it  should  take  as  deep  root  in 
the  hearts  of  those  that  owned  it,  as  it  was  to  spread 
itself  far  and  wide,  on  the  face  of  the  earth?  In  a word, 
whether  the  greater  part  of  men  were  to  be  saved  by  it  ? 
I called  this  a laudable  curiosity ; and  there  is  reason 
to  think  it  is  so,  since  our  Saviour  himself,  who  best 
knew  the  occasion  and  import  of  it,  does  not  check,  but 
satisfy  the  inquiry ; which  he  was  not  wont  to  do  when 
the  questions  were  useless  or  blameable.  Those  who 


130  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  [SCOUGAL. 

inquired  into  the  time  of  the  general  judgment,  received 
no  other  account  but  that  it  was  among  those  secrets 
which  God  reserved  for  himself.  And,  again,  when 
they  asked  of  the  time  that  the  kingdom  should  be  re- , 
stored  unto  Israel,  he  tells  them  plainly,  it  was  not  for 
them,  it  concerned  them  not  at  all,  to  know  such  things 
as  these.  But  here,  as  the  question  seems  to  have  pro- 
ceeded from  zeal  for  the  honor  of  God,  and  concern  in 
the  happiness  of  mankind ; so  its  resolution  might  be 
very  useful : and  accordingly  it  is  improved  by  our 
Saviour ; who  at  once  resolves  the  doubt,  and  presses 
a very  weighty  exhortation,  in  the  following  words  : — 
“ Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate  : for  many,  I say 
unto  you,  will  seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be  able.” 

We  are  not,  at  this  time,  to  prosecute  the  whole  im- 
port of  this  latter  verse ; for  that  we  refer  you  to  an 
excellent  sermon,  entitled  The  Way  to  Happiness. 
We  shall  only  consider  the  answer,  which  is  implied  in 
it,  to  the  foregoing  question ; namely,  that  the  number 
of  those  who  are  to  be  saved,  is  really  small. 

On  this  point,  we  design  to  fix  our  meditations  at 
this  time.  And,  indeed,  there  is  scarcely  any  doctrine 
that  needs  to  be  more  inculcated : for,  amongst  all  the 
stratagems,  by  which  the  great  enemy  of  mankind  plots 
and  contrives  their  ruin,  few  are  more  unhappily  suc- 
cessful, than  the  fond  persuasion  that  heaven  and  ever- 
lasting happiness  are  easily  attainable.  What  one  says 
of  wisdom,  we  may,  with  a little  alteration,  apply  to 
this  purpose  ; that  many  might  have  reached  heaven  if 
they  had  not  been  confident  of  doing  so.^  The  doors 
of  the  Christian  Church  are  now  very  wide,  and  men 
have  access  to  them  upon  very  easy  terms.  Nay,  this 
privilege  descends  to  men  by  their  birth,  and  they  are 
reckoned  among  Christians,  before  they  well  know  what 
the  term  means.  The  ordinances  and  mysteries  of  our 
religion  are  common  to  all,  save  those  whom  gross  ig- 
norance, or  notorious  crimes,  exclude.  There  are  no 
marks  on  the  foreheads  of  men,  whereby  we  can  judge 
of  their  future  condition  ; they  die,  and  are  laid  in  their 
graves,  and  none  come  back  to  tell  how  it  fares  with 
them ; and  we  desire  to  think  the  best  of  every  parti- 


y ^ Multi  ad  sapientiam  pervenissent,  nisi  putassent  se  pervenissed 


DISC.  IV.]  A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED,  131 

cular  persorr.  But,  whatever  charity  be  in  this,  there 
is  little  prudence  in  the  inference  which  many  draw 
from  it ; who  think,  that  they  may  live  as  their  neigh- 
bors do,  and  die  as  happily  as  they ; and,  since  the 
greatest  part  of  men  are  such  as  themselves,  that  heaven 
must  be  a very  empty  place,  if  all  of  them  be  debarred. 
Thus,  perhaps,  you  have  seen  a flock  of  sheep  on  a 
bridge,  and  the  first  leaps  over,  and  the  rest,  not  know- 
ing what  is  become  of  those  that  went  before,  each  of 
them  follow  their  companions  into  that  hazard  or  ruin. 
Interest  and  self-love  so  strongly  blind  the  minds  of 
men,  that  they  can  hardly  be  withheld  from  the  belief 
of  that  which  they  would  very  fain  have  true.  Hence 
it  is,  that,  notwithstanding  all  we  are  told  to  the  contra- 
ry, the  opinion  of  the  broadness  of  the  way  that  leads 
to  heaven,  and  the  easy  access  to  it,  is  still  the  most 
epidemic,  and,  I think,  the  most  dangerous  heresy. 
Many  of  the  commonalty  are  so  ignorant  as  to  avow  it ; 
and  the  strange  security  of  more  knowing  persons  loud- 
ly proclaims  it.  I know  he  undertakes  an  unwelcome 
errand,  who  goes  about  to  dispossess  the  minds  of  men, 
of  such  a pleasant  and  flattering  error.  But  what  shall 
we  do  ? Shall  we  suffer  them  to  sleep  on  and  take  their 
rest,  till  the  everlasting  flames  awake  them  ? Shall  we 
draw  their  blood  on  our  heads,  and  involve  ourselves  in 
their  ruiri,  by  neglecting  to  advertise  them  of  their 
hazard  ? No,  my  friends : duty  obliges  and  the  holy 
Scriptures  warrant  us,  to  assure  you,  that  there  are  few 
that  shall  be  saved  ; that  “ the  whole  world  lieth  in 
wickedness,”^  and  that  “they  are  a little  flock,  to  whom 
the  Father  will  give  the  kingdom.” 

That  this  certain,  though  lamentable,  truth,  may 
make  deeper  impression  on  our  minds,  we  shall,  first, 
propose  some  considerations,  for  the  better  understand- 
ing what  great  things  are  required,  in  those  who  look 
for  everlasting  happiness  ; and  then,  w^e  shall  reflect  on 
the  actions  and  ways  of  men ; that,  comparing  the  one 
with  the  other,  we  may  see  how  little  ground  of  hope 
there  is  for  the  greatest  part  to  build  on. 

First,  then,  consider  the  nature  of  that  divine  Majes- 
ty, whose  presence  and  enjoyment  it  is  that  makes 


^ 1 John  V.  19. 


* Luke  xii.  32. 


132  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  [SCOUGAL. 

heaven  desirable  ; and  think  how  inconsistent  it  is  with 
his  infinite  holiness,  to  admit  impure  and  impenitent 
sinners  into  the  habitation  of  his  glory.  Certainly, 
“ he  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  evil,  and  cannot 
look  on  iniquity.’’^  “He  is  not  a God  that  hath  plea- 
sure in  wickedness  : neither  shall  evil  dwell  with  Him. 
The  foolish  shall  not  stand  in  his  sight.”*  It  is  strange 
what  conceptions  foolish  men  entertain  of  Almighty 
God  ; imagining,  that  those  who  have  been  all  their 
days  wallowing  in  sin,  shall  be  admitted  into  an  ever- 
lasting fellowship  with  Him.  Sooner  shall  light  and 
darkness  dwell  together,  and  heat  and  cold  in  their 
greatest  violence  combine,  and  all  contrarieties  of  na- 
ture be  reconciled.  Can  two  walk  together,  except 
they  be  agreed  ? Can  there  be  any  converse,  between 
those  whose  natures  suit  so  ill  together  ? Surely,  they 
who  think  so  easily  to  attain  happiness  must  imagine 
God  altogether  such  a one  as  themselves;  else  they 
could  never  hope,  that  he  would  choose  them,  and  cause 
them  to  approach  unto  him.  But  how  widely  shall  they 
find  themselves  mistaken,  when  he  shall  reprove  them, 
and  set  their  sins  in  order  before  them  : and  they  shall 
discover  to  their  confusion,  that  he  is  a “ consuming 
fire  to  all  the  workers  of  iniquity  !”  Men  are  wont  to 
frame  a notion  of  God  according  to  their  own  wishes, 
as  if  he  were  but  an  empty  name  : and  this  is  the  com- 
mon shelter,  against  every  convincing  reproof.  But 
this  temerity  shall,  at  length,  sufficiently  confute  itself; 
and  men  shall  feel  that  justice,  which  they  will  not  be- 
lieve. There  is  not  strife  among  the  attributes  of  God  : 
that  one  of  them  should  swallow  up  another.  Mercy 
is  open  to  all  who  forsake  their  sins  ; but  justice  shall 
seize  on  those  who  continue  in  them.  That  compas- 
sion, which  made  God  to  give  his  dear  Son  for  the  re- 
demption of  mankind,  will  never  prevail  for  the  pardon 
and  deliverance  of  any  impenitent  sinner.  Abused 
goodness  will  certainly  turn  into  fury  ; and  infinite 
mercy,  being  despised,  shall  bring  down  upon  sinners 
all  the  dreadful  effects  of  an  omnipotent  vengeance. 

Consider,  secondly,  what  that  happiness  is  which  all 
men  so  confidently  promise  to  themselves  ; and  see 


y Hab.  i.  13. 


* Psalm  V.  4,  5. 


t)ISC,  IV.]  A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  133 

whether  it  be  likely  that  it  should  be  so  easily  attained. 
Glorious  things  are  every  where  spoken  of  that  hea- 
venly Jerusalem  ; and  all  that  is  excellent  or  desirable 
in  this  world,  is  borrowed  to  shadow  it  forth  in  the  holy 
Scriptures ; we  are  told  of  crowns,  and  kingdoms,  and 
treasures,  and  rivers  of  pleasure,  and  fountains  of  living 
waters,  and  of  an  exceeding  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

But,  thirdly,  all  these  do  not  suffice  to  convey  into 
our  minds  any  full  apprehension  of  the  happiness  we 
expect ; and,  after  all  that  can  be  said,  it  does  not  yet 
appear  what  we  shall  be.  These  metaphors  and  alle- 
gories serve  but  to  assist  our  minds  a little,  and  give  us 
some  confused  apprehensions  of  the  things  which  eye 
hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard ; nor,  said  that  beloved 
disciple  who  lay  in  the  bosom  of  our  Saviour,  can  it 
enter  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive,  what  God  hath 
prepared  for  them  that  love  him.  Can  we,  then,  expect 
that  so  glorious  a prize  shall  be  gained  without  any 
labor  ? Shall  such  a recompense  be  bestowed,  on  those 
who  never  were  at  any  pains  about  it?  What  toil  and 
travail  does  it  cost  the  avaricious,  to  gather  together 
that  white  and  yellow  earth  which  they  call  money  ? 
With  what  care  and  pains,  do  the  ambitious  ascend  to 
any  degree  of  preferment  ? What  industry  and  study  do 
studious  men  employ,  to  reach  a little  knowledge,  and 
be  reckoned  amongst  the  learned?  And  shall  heaven 
and  everlasting  happiness  slide  into  our  arms,  when  we 
are  asleep?  No,  certainly.  God  will  never  disparage 
the  glories  of  that  place,  to  bestow  them  on  those  who 
have  not  thought  them  worthy  of  their  most  serious  en- 
deavors. But,  as  the  greatness  of  that  happiness  may 
justly  discourage  all  pretenders  to  it,  so  its  nature  leaves 
small  ground  of  hope,  to  the  greater  part  of  the  world. 
I wonder  what  most  men  expect  to  meet  with  in  hea- 
ven, who  dream  of  coming  thither.  Think  they  to  feast 
and  revel,  and  luxuriate  there,  and  to  spend  eternity  in 
foolish  mirth  and  vain  talk ; in  sport  and  drollery,  and 
sensual  pleasure  ? — for  such  alone  are  the  exercises  of 
which  they  are  capable,  or  in  which  they  can  find  relish 
or  satisfaction.  Away  with  all  those  Turkish  notions, 
whereby  we  disparage  the  happiness  to  which  we  pre- 
tend. The  joys  of  that  place  are  pure  and  spiritual, 
and  no  unclean  thing  shall  enter  there.  The  felicity  of 


134  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  [SCOUGAL. 

blessed  spirits  consists  in  beholding  and  admiring  the 
divine  perfections,  and  finding  the  image  of  them  shining 
in  themselves  in  perfect  conformity  to  the  will  and  nature 
of  God,  and  intimate  and  delightful  society  and  commu- 
nion with  him.  And  shall  souls  be  blessed  in  seeing  and 
partaking  of  the  divine  likeness,  who  never  loved  it,  and 
who  would  choose  any  thing,  rather  than  to  converse 
with  God  ? A little  reflection  on  the  common  temper 
of  men’s  minds,  may  assure  us  that  they  are  very  far 
from  that  meetness  and  aptitude  ‘‘  for  the  inheritance  of 
the  saints  in  light, which  the  apostle  speaks  of. 
The  notion  and  nature  of  blessedness  must  surely  be 
changed  ; or  else,  the  temper  of  their  spirits  : either 
they  must  have  new  hearts,  or  a new  heaven  created 
for  them,  before  they  can  be  happy.  It  is  a strange  infa- 
tuation of  self-love,  that  men  in  the  gall  of  bitterness 
should  think  it  is  well  with  their  souls,  and  fancy  them- 
selves in  a case  good  enough  for  the  enjoyment  of 
divine  pleasures. 

In  the  fourth  place.  Let  us  reflect  on  the  attempts 
and  endeavors  of  those,  who  have  gone  to  heaven  be- 
fore us.  How  they  did  fight  and  strive,  wrestle  and 
run,  for  obtaining  that  glorious  prize ; and  we  shall  see 
how  improbable  it  is,  that  the  greatest  part  of  men 
should  gain  it,  with  so  little  pains.  Noah,  Abraham, 
Jacob,  David,  and  all  those  ancient  worthies,  recorded 
in  Holy  Writ,  have  either  done  or  suffered  so  great 
things,  as  gave  ground  to  expect  that  country  which 
they  looked  after,  “ accounting  themselves  strangers 
and  pilgrims  on  the  earth;”  as  you  may  see  in  the 
eleventh  chapter  of  Hebrews : where,  after  a large 
catalogue  of  their  performances,  the  author  tells  us  of 
others,  “ who  were  tortured,  not  accepting  deliverance  ; 
that  they  might  obtain  a better  resurrection.  And 
others  had  trial  of  cruel  mockings,  and  scourgings,  yea, 
moreover,  of  bonds  and  imprisonment.  They  were 
stoned,  they  were  sawn  asunder,  were  tempted,  were 
slain  with  the  sword  : they  wandered  about  in  sheep- 
skins, and  goat-skins ; being  destitute,  afflicted,  tor- 
mented : of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy.  They 
wandered  in  deserts  and  in  mountains,  and  in  dens  and 


^ Col.  i.  12. 


DISC.  IV.J  A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  135 

caves  of  the  earth.”  Such,  also,  was  that  holy  vio- 
lence wherewith  the  Christians  of  the  first  and  golden 
ages  forced  open  the  gates  of  heaven,  and  took  posses- 
sion of  it.  The  ardent  affection  with  which  these 
blessed  souls  were  inflamed  toward  their  Maker  and 
Redeemer,  made  them  willingly  give  up  their  bodies  to 
be  burned  in  the  fire,  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  pro- 
pagation of  the  Christian  faith.  Their  constancy  in  suffer- 
ings, amazed  their  bloody  persecutors,  and  out-wearied 
the  cruelty  of  their  tormentors;  they  rejoiced  in  nothing 
more,  than  that  they  were  accounted  worthy  to  suffer 
shame,  for  the  name  of  Jesus.”  . And  what  shall  we 
say  of  their  universal  charity  and  love,  which  reached 
their  very  enemies  ? Of  their  humility  and  meekness,  jus- 
tice and  temperance,  and  all  those  other  virtues,  which 
many  of  the  Heathen  themselves  observed  and  admired? 
‘Behold,’  said  one,  ‘ how  the  Christians  love  one  an- 
other !’  ‘ These  are  the  men,’  says  another ! ‘ who 

speak  as  they  think,  and  do  as  they  speak.’  Pliny,  after 
an  exact  inquiry,  writes  to  the  Emperor  Trajan,  ‘ that 
he  could  never  find  any  other  guilt  in  the  Christians, 
except  they  met  together  before  day-break,  to  sing  a 
hymn  to  Christ,  as  if  he  were  God  ; and  then  to  bind 
themselves  with  a sacrament  or  oath,  not  to  do  any 
mischief;  but  on  the  contrary,  that  they  shall  not  rob, 
steal,  or  commit  adultery,  or  falsify  their  words,  or  deny 
their  trust,  <fec.’  This  was  the  crime  of  Christians,  in 
those  first  ages,  to  engage  themselves  not  to  commit 
any  crime.  They  needed  not,  in  those  days,  to  be  pur- 
sued by  tedious  processes,  or  dragged  against  their  will 
to  the  profession  of  repentance.  They  would  sue  for 
it  with  tears,  and  stand,  for  many  years,  at  the  door  of 
the  church  begging  to  be  received.  The  censures  of 
the  Church  were  then  looked  upon  as  very  serious  and 
dreadful  things  ; and  they  who  would  encounter  death 
in  the  most  terrible  form,  would  tremble  if  threatened 
with  excommunication.  Now,  tell  me,  I pray  you, 
what  you  think  of  these  men  ? Did  they  supererogate, 
and  go  beyond  their  duty  ? Or  were  they  fools  in  do- 
ing these  things,  when  half  the  pains  might  have  served 
their  turn  ? Did  heaven  and  happiness  cost  them  so 
much  labor,  and  think  you  to  be  carried  thither  fast 
asleep,  or  rather,  while  you  are  bending  your  forces 


136  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  [SCOUGAL, 

quite  another  way  ? If  you  cannot  look  so  far  backy 
or  if  you  imagine  these  but  romances,  like  the  poetic 
accounts  of  the  golden*  age,  when  all  men  were  happy 
and  good,  I shall  then  desire  you  to  take  notice  of  a 
few  persons  whom  the  divine  goodness  has  rescued 
from  that  deluge  of  wickedness  which  overflows  the 
world.  There  are,  perhaps,  some  two  or  three  in  a 
city,  or  in  a county,  who  live  very  far  beyond  the  com- 
mon rate  of  men,  and  who  may  be  accounted  angels 
upon  earth,  if  compared  with  the  multitude.  They  have 
escaped  the  pollution  that  is  in  the  uorld,  and  have 
learned  to  despise  all  its  vanities ; their  aflections  are 
above,  and  their  greatest  business  is,  to  please  and 
serve  their  Maker ; their  thoughts  and  aflections  are, 
in  a great  measure,  holy  and  pure,  their  converse  inno- 
cent and  useful,  and  in  their  whole  deportment  they 
observe  such  strict  rules  of  holiness  and  virtue,  as  others 
may  think  needless  or  superstitious ; and  yet  these  per- 
sons are  deeply  sensible  of  their  own  imperfections, 
and  afraid  enough  to  come  short  of  heaven.  I speak 
not  now  of  those  scrupulous  persons  whom  melancholy 
exposes  to  perpetual  and  unaccountable  fears ; much 
less  of  others  who  make  a trade  of  complaining,  and 
would  be  the  better  thought  of,  for  speaking  evil  of  them- 
selves, and  would  be  very  ill-pleased  if  you  should  be- 
lieve them.  I speak  of  rational  and  sober  men,  whose 
fears  arise  from  their  due  consideration  and  measure  of 
things  ; from  the  right  apprehensions  w^hich  they  have 
of  the  holiness  of  God,  and  the  meaning  and  import  of 
the  Gospel  precepts.  And  certainly  such  holy  jealousies 
over  themselves  ought  not  to  be  judged  needless : St. 
Paul  himself,  w^ho  had  been  rapt  up  in  the  third  heaven, 
and  thereby  received  an  earnest  of  eternal  happiness, 
found  it  necessary  to  take  care,  “ lest,  by  any  means, 
while  he  preached  to  others,  himself  should  be  a cast- 
aw^ay.”’'  I know  it  is  ordinary  for  men  to  laugh  at 
those  who  are  more  serious  and  conscientious  than 
themselves ; to  wonder  w^hat  they  aim  at,  and  to  hope 
to  be  as  sure  of  heaven  as  they.  But,  ere  long,  they 
shall  discover  their  mistake,  and  shall  say,  wdth  those 
spoken  of  in  the  Book  of  Wisdom,  “ This  w'as  he. 


b 1 Cor.  xi.  27. 


DISC.  IV.]  A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  137 

whom  we  had  sometimes  in  derision,  and  a proverb  of 
reproach.  We  fools  accounted  his  life  madness,  and 
his  end  to  be  without  honor.  How  is  he  numbered 
among  the  children  of  God,  and  his  lot  is  among  the 
saints ! Therefore  have  we  erred  from  the  way  of 
truth : and  the  light  of  righteousness  hath  not  shined 
unto  us ; and  the  sun  of  righteousness  rose  not  upon 
us.” 

To  come  yet  closer  to  our  present  purpose  : a serious 
consideration  of  the  laws  and  precepts  of  the  Gospel, 
will  fully  convince  us  of  the  straitness  of  the  gate,  and 
narrowness  of  the  way,  that  leadeth  to  eternal  life.  We 
cannot  name  them  all,  nor  insist  upon  any  at  length. 
Look  through  the  excellent  sermon  on  the  mount,  and 
see  what  our  Saviour  requires  of  his  followers.  You 
will  find  him  enjoining  such  a profound  humility,  as 
shall  make  us  think  nothing  of  ourselves,  and  be 
content  that  others  think  nothing  of  us ; a meek- 
ness which  no  injuries  can  overcome,  no  affronts  nor 
indignities  can  exasperate ; a chastity,  which  restrains 
the  sight  of  the  eyes,  and  the  wandering  of  the  desires; 
such  an  universal  charity,  as  will  make  us  tender  other 
men’s  welfare  as  our  own,  and  never  take  any  other 
revenge  against  our  most  bitter  ehemies,  but  to  wish 
them  well,  and  to  do  them  all  the  good  we  can,  whether 
they  will  or  not.  Whatever  corrupt  glosses  men  are 
bold  to  put  on  our  Saviour’s  words,  the  offering  the 
other  cheek  to  him  who  smote  the  right  one,  and  the 
giving  our  coat  to  him  who  hath  taken  our  cloak, 
obliges^  us  to  suffer  injuries,  and  part  with  something 
of  our  right,  in  order  to  avoid  strife  and  contention. 
The  pulling  out  our  right  eye,  and  cutting  off  our  right 
hand  that  offends,  imports  the  renouncing  of  the  most 
gainful  callings,  or  pleasant  enjoyments,  when  they  be- 
come a snare  to  us.  The  hating  of  father  and  mother 
for  the  sake  of  Christ,  at  least  implies  the  loving  of 
him  infinitely  beyond  our  dearest  relations ; and  the 
being  ready  to  part  with  them,  when  either  our  duty 
or  his  will  calls  for  it.  And  we  must  not  look  upon 
these  things  as  only  counsels  of  perfection,  commend- 
able in  themselves,  but  which  may  yet  be  neglected 
without  any  great  hazard.  No,  certainly;  they  are 
absolutely  necessary ; and  it  is  folly  to  expect  happi- 


138  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  [SCOUGAL, 

ness,  without  the  conscientious  and  sincere  performance 
of  them  all : “ Whosoever  shall  break  one  of  these 
least  commandments,  and  shall  teach  men  so,  he  shall 
be  called  the  least  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven that  is, 
according  to  all  interpreters,  he  shall  have  no  interest 
in  it.  You  see,  then,  by  what  strict  rules  he  must 
square  his  actions,  who  can,  with  any  ground,  hope  to 
be  saved.  But  I must  tell  you  further,  that  he  must  not 
be  excited  to  the  performance  of  his  duty,  merely  by 
the  force  and  sanctions  of  these  laws.  True  religion 
is  an  inward,  free,  and  self-moving  principle  ; and  those 
w^ho  have  made  a progress  in  it,  are  not  actuated  only 
by  external  motives;  are  not  merely  driven  by  threaten- 
ings,  nor  bribed  by  promises,  nor  constrained  by  laws ; 
but  are  powerfully  inclined  to  that  which  is  good. 
Though  holy  and  religious  persons  much  regard  the 
law  of  God,  yet  it  is  not  so  much  the  authority  and 
sanction  of  it,  as  its  reasonableness,  and  purity,  and 
goodness,  that  prevails  with  them.  They  account  it 
excellent  and  desirable  in  itself.  They  feel  that  in 
keeping  of  it  there  is  great  reward  ; and  that  divine 
love  by  which  they  are  actuated,  makes  them  become  a 
law  unto  themselves : 

Q,uis  legem  det  amantibus  ? 

Major  est  amor  lex  ipse  sibi. 

In  a w'ord,  what  our  blessed  Saviour  said  of  himself,  is, 
in  some  measure,  applicable  to  his  followers — that  it  is 
their  meat  and  drink,  to  do  their  Father’s  will.  And, 
as  the  natural  appetite  is  carried  out  toward  food, 
though  we  should  not  reflect  on  its  necessity  for  the 
preservation  of  our  lives,  so  are  they  carried,  with  a 
natural  and  unforced  propension,  toward  that  which  is 
good  and  commendable. 

Hitherto,  we  have  been  speaking  of  the  qualiflcations 
which  are  necessary  for  obtaining  an  entrance  into  hea- 
ven. It  is  high  time  we  were  casting  our  eyes  upon  the 
w’orld,  to  see  how  the  tempers  and  actions  of  men  agree 
with  those  qualifications.  And  first,  if  we  look  back  upon 
the  old  world,  we  shall  see  how  soon  wickedness  over- 
spread the  face  of  the  earth,  and  all  flesh  had  corrupted 


• [Page  17.] 


DISC,  IV.]  A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  139 

their  way;  and  of  all  the  multitudes  that  were  then  in 
the  world,  only  Noah  and  his  family  were  found  worthy 
to  escape  the  general  deluge ; nay,  even  in  it  there  was 
a cursed  Cham,  the  father  of  a wicked  generation.  After 
that  the  Church  of  God  was  confined  to  a very  narrow 
corner : and  while  darkness  covered  the  face  of  the 
earth,  only  Palestine  was  enlightened  with  the  know- 
ledge of  God  : “ He  showed  his  word  unto  Jacob,  his 
statutes  and  his  judgment  unto  Israel.  But  he  dealt  not 
so  with  every  nation  : as  for  his  judgments,  they  have 
not  known  them.'^  They  were  given  up  to  the  lusts  of 
their  own  hearts,  and  worshipped  the  works  of  their 
own  hands.”  Their  devotions  were  performed  unto 
devils,  and  their  religious  mysteries  were  full  of  the 
grossest  impurities.  I shall  not  now  enter  on  the  debate, 
whether  ever  any  Heathen  might  possibly  have  been 
saved  ? We  are  more  concerned  to  secure  our  own  sal- 
vation, than  to  dispute  about  theirs:  and  yeti  must  say, 
that,  amongst  all  the  lives  of  celebrated  Heathen,  I 
could  never  meet  with  the  character  of  a truly  good 
man.  And,  though  I love  not  to  decry  morality,  yet 
that  pride  and  self-conceit  which  mingled  itself  with 
their  fairest  actions,  makes  me  look  upon  them  as  in- 
deed, ‘ splendida  peccata,’  a more  specious  kind  of  sins. 
But,  supposing  something  could  be  said  for  Socrates 
and  Plato,  and  two  or  three  others,  what  is  that  to  those 
huge  multitudes,  who,  without  all  peradventure,  ran 
headlong  into  everlasting  destruction?  But  let  us  leave 
those  times,  and  look  upon  the  present  condition  of  the 
world  It  is  a sad  account  of  it  that  is  given  by  Breer- 
wood  in  his  ‘Inquiries,’  that,  dividing  the  whole  world 
into  thirty  parts,  nineteen  are  Pagan,  six  are  Mahomedan, 
and  only  five  remain  for  Christians  of  all  persuasions. 
I shall  not  warrant  the  exactness  of  his  reckoning;  but 
certainly  the  number  of  Christians  bears  but  a very 
small  proportion  to  the  rest  of  mankind.  And  of  these, 
again,  how  few  are  there  orthodox  in  their  religion.  I 
dare  not  condemn  all  those  who  live  in  the  Romish  com- 
munion ; but  surely  they  labor  under  very  great  disad- 
vantages; and  besides  the  common  difficulties  of  Chris- 


d Psalm  cxlvii.  19,  20. 


140  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  [SCOUGAL. 

tianity,  their  errors  and  superstitions  are  no  small  hin- 
drances to  their  progress. 

But  we  may,  perhaps,  think  ourselves  little  concerned 
in  them.  Let  us,  then,  consider  those  who  live  in  com- 
munion with  ourselves,  and  see  what  is  to  be  thought 
of  the  generality.  And  first,  we  shall  find  a very  great 
number  so  grossly  ignorant,  that  they  know  not  the  way 
that  leads  to  life.  And  truly  it  is  not  so  broad  that  peo- 
ple should  keep  it  by  guess.  And  however  they  ima- 
gine that  their  ignorance  will  not  only  be  excusable  in 
itself,  but  afford  a cloak  to  their  other  wickedness, — yet 
dreadful  is  that  threatening  of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  “ It 
is  a people  of  no  understanding;  therefore.  He  that 
made  them  will  not  have  mercy  upon  them ; and  He 
that  formed  them,  will  show  them  no  favor.”  But, 
besides  those  many  thousands  that  perish  for  lack  of 
knowledge,  how  great  are  the  number  of  vicious  and 
scandalous  persons?  Remove  but  our  gluttons  and 
drunkards,  our  thieves  and  deceivers,  our  oppressors 
and  extortioners,  our  scolders  and  revilers,  our  forni- 
cators and  adulterers,  and  all  that  abominable  crew,  that 
are  guilty  of  such  heinous  crimes,  and  how  thin  should 
our  Churches  be  ! To  what  a small  number  should  we 
quickly  be  reduced  ! A little  corner  would  hold  us  all. 
And  think  you  these  I have  been  speaking  of  are  fit  to 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ? Perhaps  you  may 
account  us  rash,  to  condemn  so  many  of  our  neighbors; 
but  the  apostle  has  done  it  to  our  hands  : “Know  ye  not 
that  the  unrighteous  shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God  ? 
Be  not  deceived  : neither  fornicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor 
adulterers,  nor  effeminate,  nor  abusers  of  themselves 
with  mankind,  nor  thieves,  nor  covetous,  nor  drunkards, 
nor  revilers,  nor  extortioners,  shall  inherit  the  kingdom 
of  God.”  e You  see  what  a heavy  sentence  is  pro- 
nounced ; and  oh  ! how  many  are  included  under  it ! I 
shall  name  one  other  vice,  which  I fear  wdll  drive  in  no 
small  number  of  those  who  are  yet  behind — and  that  is, 
the  unaccountable  sin  of  swearing;  by  which  men  com- 
monly throw  away  their  souls,  without  any  temptation, 
pleasure,  or  advantage.  How  often  do  men  baffle  the  sa- 
cred name  of  God,  by  calling  him  to  witness  such  trifles, 

® 1 Cor.  vi,  10. 


DiSCi  IV.]  A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  141 

as  they  might  be  ashamed  to  attest,  before  any  grave 
or  sober  person  ? This  they  account  an  ornament  of 
speech;  and  their  words  would  never  sound  big  enough 
without  it.  I cannot  pause  to  reckon  up  all  the  aggra- 
vations of  this  sin.  It  is  certainly  inconsistent  with  a 
religious  temper ; and  this  alone,  if  there  were  no  more, 
would  condemn  the  greater  part  of  the  Christian  world. 
And  what  shall  we  say  of  all  those  other  vices,  which 
are  so  frequently  practised,  yea,  and  defended  too, 
among  us  ? For,  alas  ! we  are  arrived  at  that  height  of 
impiety,  that  virtue  and  vice  seem  to  have  shifted  places; 
evil  and  good  to  have  changed  their  names.  It  is  counted 
a gallant  thing,  to  despise  all  divine  and  human  laws ; 
and  a childish  scrupulosity,  to  forbear  any  thing  that 
may  gratify  our  passions.  A strong  faith  is  accounted 
an  argument  of  weak  judgment ; dependence  upon  Pro- 
vidence is  judged  want  of  foresight ; and  there  is  no  wit 
but  in  deceiving  others  : no  man  is  reckoned  generous 
unless  he  be  extremely  ambitious ; and  it  is  want  of 
courage  to  forgive  an  injury.  O Religion,  whither  art 
thou  fled ! In  what  corner  of  the  world  shall  we 
find  thee ! Shall  we  search  for  thee  in  the  courts 
and  palaces  of  great  men?  Pride  and  luxury  have 
driven  thee  thence ; and  they  are  too  much  concerned 
in  the  business  and  pleasures  of  this  world,  to  regard 
those  of  another.  Shall  we  seek  thee  in  the  cottages 
of  the  poor?  Envy  and  discontent  lodge  there;  their 
outward  wants  take  up  all  their  thoughts,  and  they  have 
but  little  regard  for  their  souls.  Shall  we  go  into  the 
city?  Cheating,  and  extortion,  and  intemperance,  are 
almost  all  that  we  can  meet  with  there.  And  if  we 
retire  into  the  country,  we  shall  find  as  little  innocence 
in  it : “ We  may  look  for  judgment,  but  behold  oppres- 
sion; for  righteousness,  but  behold  a cry.” 

After  all  that  we  have  hitherto  said,  some  may  think 
themselves  safe  enough,  being  conscious  of  none  of 
those  vices  which  we  have  named.  But,  alas  ! what  is 
all  this.  They  may  still  be  far  from  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  Religion  consists  not  of  negatives ; and  the 
being  free  from  gross  and  scandalous  vices,  is  a poor 
plea  for  heaven.  Look  how  thy  soul  is  furnished  with 
those  divine  graces  which  ought  to  qualify  thee  for  it. 

I shall  name  but  one ; and  it  is,  the  love  of  God  : every 


142  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  [SCOUGAL, 

body  pretends  to  it ; but  how  few  are  there  in  the  world 
that  understand  w^hat  it  means,  that  feel  its  power  and 
efficacy  on  their  own  spirits  ! Love  is  that  weight  by 
which  a soul  is  carried  toward  the  object  which  it 
loves,  and  rests  in  it  as  its  proper  centre.^  Those  who 
are  acquainted  with  this  noble  passion,  even  in  its  wan- 
derings and  deviations  from  its  proper  object,  when  it  is 
wholly  fixed  on  some  silly  creature  like  ourselves, — 
these,  I say,  know  what  mighty  effects  it  is  wont  to 
produce  on  the  souls  where  it  prevails ; how  it  makes 
them  almost  forget  their  own  interest,  and  consult  that 
only  of  another ; how  careful  they  are  of  every  thing 
that  may  please  or  advantage  the  person  loved ; and 
afraid  in  any  action  to  offend  them ; what  delight  they 
have  in  their  conversation,  and  how  hardly  they  endure 
to  be  absent  from  them.  See,  therefore,  if  thou  findest 
any  thing  answerable  to  these  effects,  in  the  affection 
which  thou  pretendest  unto  God.  Are  his  glory  and 
honor  the  dearest  of  all  things  unto  thee ; wouldst  thou 
rather  hear  thyself,  and  all  thy  friends  reviled,  than  His 
holy  name  blasphemed  ? Is  it  thy  greatest  care  and 
business  to  please  Him,  and  art  thou  watchful  against 
every  sin  ? Is  there  nothing  in  the  world  so  dear  unto 
thee,  but  thou  wouldst  part  with  for  his  sake?  Desirest 
thou  that  he  should  do  his  own  will,  rather  than  thine  ? 
Is  nothing  so  delightful,  as  to  converse  with  him  ? And 
does  every  thing  seem  burthensome  which  detains  thee 
long  from  him?  If  we  would  examine  ourselves  by 
these  tests,  I fear  most  of  us  would  find  our  confidence 
built  on  a sandy  foundation. 

Perhaps  you  will  tell  me,  that  though  things  be  not 
so  well  at  present, — though  you  have  not  yet  attained 
these  endowments,  which  are  necessary  to  fit  you  for 
heaven,  nor  indeed  have  begun  to  endeavor  after  them, 
— yet,  hereafter,  you  hope  all  shall  be  well ; you  will 
repent  and  amend  before  you  die.  Consider,  I beseech 
you,  my  brethren,  what  it  is  that  you  say.  When  think 
you  that  this  promised  reformation  shall  begin  ? Some 
two  or  three  years  after  this,  when  you  have  pleased 
yourselves,  and  indulged  your  appetites  a little  more  ? 
But  what  assurance  have  you  to  live  so  long  ? Are  not 


{ ‘ Amor  est  pondus  animi.’ 


DISC.  IV.]  A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  143 

your  neighbors,  who  expected  death  as  little  as  you, 
dropping  down  every  day  around  you  ? And  suppose 
you  live,  what  greater  probability  is  there  of  your  re- 
formation at  a future  time  than  now?  Had  you  not, 
several  years  ago,  the  same  thoughts  and  resolutions 
which  yet  have  no  effect  ? Will  you  not  again  have 
the  same  temptations  and  snares  ? Will  your  passions 
be  more  easily  overcome,  when  strengthened  by  longer 
custom  ? Will  it  be  more  easy  to  return,  after  you  have 
wandered  further  out  of  the  way?  Perhaps  it  is  on  a 
death-bed  repentance,  that  you  have  grounded  your 
hopes : you  resolve  to  part  with  your  appetites  when  you 
can  keep  them  no  longer,  and  to  serve  God  Almighty 
with  the  dregs  of  your  time.  I shall  not  tell  you  what 
shrewd  objections  are  proposed  by  some  great  and 
learned  men,  against  the  validity  and  acceptableness  of 
such  a repentance ; some  of  them,  perhaps,  have  been 
too  peremptory  and  severe.  True  and  unfeigned  re- 
pentance, which  includes  the  sincere  love  of  God,  and 
resignation  to  him,  will  never  come  too  late  : the  found- 
ation of  heaven  is  laid  in  the  souls  of  those  that  have  it. 
But  when  we  consider  what  a great  matter  true  repent- 
ance is,  the  shortness  of  the  time,  the  hindrances  of  a 
distempered  body,  and  the  ordinary  relapses  of  men 
who  have  promised  fair  on  such  occasions,  and  have 
outlived  that  sickness  which  they  thought  had  been 
mortal ; when  we  consider  these  things,  we  cannot  but 
acknowledge  that  a death-bed  repentance  is  seldom 
sincere  ; and  that  it  is  an  unfit  time  to  begin  to  fight 
with  principalities  and  powers,  when,  perhaps,  we  have 
not  strength  to  turn  ourselves  on  our  beds : in  a word, 
that  of  those  who  thus  delay  and  put  off  the  momentous 
business,  but  very  few  shall  be  saved. 

When  we  have  said  all  that  we  can  say,  there  are 
many  who  will  never  be  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  that 
which  we  have  been  proving.  They  cannot  think  it 
consistent  with  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God,  that 
the  greatest  part  of  mankind  should  be  damned  ; they 
cannot  imagine  that  heaven  should  be  such  an  empty 
and  desolate  place,  and  have  so  very  few  to  inhabit  it. 
But  what  folly  and  madness  is  this,  for  sinful  men  to 
set  rules  unto  the  Divine  goodness,  and  to  draw  con- 
clusions from  it,  so  expressly  contrary  to  what  he  has 


144  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  [SCOUGAL. 

himself  revealed  ! Is  it  not  enough  that  he  has  taught 
us  the  way  to  be  happy,  and  given  his  own  Son  to  the 
death,  to  make  it  possible ; that  he  has  waited  so  long, 
and  invited  us  so  earnestly,  and  so  frequently  told  us 
our  hazard  ? If  all  this  cannot  prevail ; if  we  be  obsti- 
nately resolved  to  continue  wdcked  and  miserable  ; if 
we  despise  his  goodness,  and  turn  all  his  grace  unto 
wantonness  ; if  we  slight  his  threatenings,  and  will  have 
none  of  his  reproof;  if  we  court  damnation,  and  throw 
ourselves  headlong  into  hell, — how  can  we  expect  that 
he  should  interpose  his  omnipotency  to  pull  us  from 
thence,  and  place  us  in  heaven  against  our  will  ? Those 
blessed  regions  are  not  like  our  new  plantations,  which 
are  sometimes  peopled  with  the  worst  sort  of  persons, 
lest  they  should  be  altogether  desolate.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  angels,  and  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand,  that 
stand  about  the  throne.  We  know  little  the  extent  of 
the  universe,  or  what  proportion  the  wicked  or  misera- 
ble part  of  rational  beings,  bears  to  those  that  are  happy 
and  good ; but  this  we  know,  that  God  was  infinitely 
happy  before  he  had  made  any  creature,  that  he  needs  not 
the  society  of  the  holy  angels,  and  will  never  admit  that 
of  wicked  and  irreligious  men. 

The  doctrine  on  which  we  have  been  insisting  is  sad 
and  lamentable  ; but  the  consideration  of  it  may  be  very 
useful.  It  must  needs  touch  any  serious  person  with 
very  much  of  grief  and  trouble,  to  behold  a multitude 
of  people  convened  together,  and  to  think,  that,  before 
thirty  or  forty  years,  a little  more,  or  a great  deal  less, 
they  shall  all  go  down  unto  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 
and  the  greater,  the  far  greater  part  of  their  souls,  shall 
perish  everlastingly.  But  this  consideration  may  urge 
us  to  the  greater  diligence  and  care,  that  we  may  do 
what  we  can  toward  the  prevention  of  these  sad  con- 
sequences. Were  the  sense  of  this  truth  deeply  en- 
graven on  all  our  minds,  with  what  care  and  diligence, 
with  what  seriousness  and  zeal,  would  ministers  deal 
with  the  people  committed  to  their  charge,  that,  by  any 
means,  they  might  save  some  ! How  would  parents, 
and  husbands,  and  wives,  employ  all  their  diligence 
and  industry,  and  make  use  of  the  most  likely  methods 
for  reclaiming  their  near  relations,  and  pulling  them 
from  the  brink  of  hell ! Lastly,  what  holy  violence 


DISC.  IV.]  A SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  145 

would  each  of  us  use,  for  saving  ourselves  from  this 
common  ruin,  and  making  our  calling  and  election  sure? 
This  is  the  use  of  what  we  have  been  endeavoring  to 
enforce  : and  may  Almighty  God  so  accompany  it  with 
his  blessing  and  power,  that  it  may  be  happily  effectual 
to  so  excellent  a purpose.  And  unto  this  God,  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  be  all  honor,  praise,  and 
thanksgiving,  now  and  for  ever  ! Amen. 


13 


146 


THE  DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  [SCOUGAL. 


SERMON  V. 

THE  DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  OF  PRAISE  AND  THANKS- 
GIVING. 


Psalm  cvii.  15. 

0 that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness^  and  for  his 

wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men ! 

There  is  scarcely  any  duty  of  religion  'more  com- 
monly neglected,  or  more  slightly  performed,  than  this 
of  praise  and  thanksgiving.  The  sense  of  our  wants 
urges  us  to  beg  favors  from  God  ; and  the  conscious- 
ness of  our  sins  constrains  us  to  deprecate  his  wrath. 
Thus  interest  and  self-love  send  us  to  our  prayers.  But, 
alas  ! how  small  a part  has  an  ingenuous  gratitude,  in 
our  devotion!  How  seldom  are  we  serious  and  hearty, 
in  our  acknowledgment  of  the  divine  bounty ! The 
slender  returns  of  this  nature  which  we  make,  are  often 
a formal  ceremony,  a preface  to  usher  in  our  petitions 
for  what  we  want,  rather  than  any  sincere  expression 
of  our  thankfulness  for  what  we  have  received.  Far  dif- 
ferent was  the  temper  of  the  holy  psalmist,  whose  affec- 
tionate acknowledgments  of  the  goodness  and  bounty  of 
God,  in  the  cheerful  celebration  of  his  praise,  make  up 
a considerable  part  of  his  divine  songs.  How  often  do 
we  find  him  exciting  and  disposing  himself  to  join  voice, 
hand,  and  heart,  together,  in  this  holy  and  delightful 
employment ! “ Bless  the  Lord,  O my  soul : and  all 

that  is  within  me,  bless  his  holy  name.^  My  heart  is 
fixed,  O God,  my  heart  is  fixed.  I will  sing  and  give 
praise.  Awake  up,  my  glory,  awake  psaltery  and  harp : 

1 myself  will  awake  right  early.”^'  And,  conscious  of 
his  own  insufficiency  for  the  work,  he  invites  the  co- 
operation of  others ; calling  in  the  whole  creation  to 
assist  him : “ O sing  unto  the  Lord  a new  song ; sing 
unto  the  Lord  all  the  earth.  Give  unto  the  Lord,  O 
ye  kindreds  of  the  people,  give  unto  the  Lord  glory 


e Psalm  ciii.  1. 


h Psalm  Ivii.  7,  8. 


DISC.  V.]  OF  PRAISE  AND  THANKSGIVING.  147 

and  strength.^  Praise  ye  the  Lord.  Praise  ye  the 
Lord,  from  the  heavens : praise  him  in  the  heights. 
Praise  him,  ye  sun  and  moon  : praise  him,  all  ye  stars 
of  light;  mountains,  and  all  hills;  fruitful  trees,  and  all 
cedars ; beasts,  and  all  cattle ; creeping  things,  and  fly- 
ing fowl.j  Bless  the  Lord,  all  his  works,  in  all  places 
of  his  dominion.”^  Many  such  figurative  expressions 
occur ; and  allowance  must  be  made  for  the  poetical 
strain  : but  in  the  text  we  have  a proper  and  passionate 
wish,  “ O that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  good- 
ness, and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of 
men.” 

Man  is  the  great  priest  of  this  lower  world  ; by  whom 
all  the  homage  and  service  of  the  other  creatures,  is  to 
be  paid  to  their  common  Lord  and  Maker.  “God  hath 
made  him  to  have  dominion  over  the  works  of  his  hand; 
he  hath  put  all  things  under  his  feet  : all  sheep  and 
oxen ; yea,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  : the  fowl  of  the 
air  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  whatsoever  passeth  through 
the  paths  of  the  seas.”i  The  divine  bounty,  in  maintain- 
ing these  poor  creatures,  redounds  to  man ; and  there- 
fore it  is  highly  reasonable  that  he  should  pay  the  tribute 
of  praise  for  them,  who  are  not  capable  of  knowing  their 
dependence  on  God,  or  their  obligations  unto  him. — 
“The  young  lions  roar,  and  seek  their  meat  from  God.”“ 
“ The  young  ravens  do  cry  unto  him.”‘'  But  these  are 
only  the  complaints  of  languishing  nature,  heard  and  re- 
lieved by  the  God  of  nature  ; though  not  directly  and 
particularly  addressed  to  him.  Man  alone  is  capable  to 
entertain  communion  with  God  ; to  know  his  goodness, 
and  to  celebrate  his  praise. 

“ O that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  !”  Praise  is  the 
acknowledgment  of  the  goodness  and  excellency  of  a 
person  : and,  though  the  desire  of  it  in  us,  who  have 
nothing  of  our  own  but  folly  and  sin,  and  whose  best 
performances  have  a miserable  alloy  of  adherent  infirmi- 
ty, be  a blameable  vanity  and  presumption, — yet,  cer- 
tainly, it  is  highly  reasonable  for  God,  who  is  the  author 
and  fountain  of  all  good,  to  require  and  expect  praise  from 
his  creatures.  He  has  made  this  world,  as  a great  temple 


i Psalm  xcvi.  1.  7.  5 Psalm  cxlviii.  1.  3.  9,  10.  ^ Psalm  ciii.  2*2  . 

I Psalm  viii.  6,  7,  8.  ^ Psalm  civ.  21.  ” Job  xxxviii.  41  . 


148  THE  DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  [SCOUGAL. 

for  his  honor : and  it  should  continually  resound  with 
his  praise.  It  is  true,  all  the  praises  of  men  and  angels 
can  add  nothing  to  his  happiness  and  glory  ; yet,  there 
is  a fitness  and  congruity  in  the  thing ; and  it  is  our  hap- 
piness, as  well  as  our  duty,  to  perform  it : “ for  it  is 
good  to  sing  praises  to  our  God  ; for  it  is  pleasant,  and 
praise  is  comely.”®  This  is  the  blessed  employment  of 
the  holy  ones  above  : and,  if  ever  we  taste  the  pleasures 
of  heaven  upon  earth,  it  is  then,  when  our  souls  are 
transported  with  an  overflowing  sense  of  the  divine 
goodness,  and  our  mouths  are  filled  with  his  praise. 

“ O that  men  would  praise  the  Lord,  for  his  good- 
ness !”  All  the  attributes  of  God  deserve  our  highest 
praise.  Power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  are  all  one  in 
him ; but,  as  we  have  different  conceptions  of  these, 
goodness  is  that  lovely  attribute  which  peculiarly  at- 
tracts our  affection,  and  excites  our  praise.  Our  love  to 
God,  does  not  so  much  flow  from  the  consideration  of 
his  greatness,  whereby  he  can  do  whatever  he  will,  as 
from  the  consideration  of  his  goodness,  that  he  always 
wills  what  is  best ; that  his  almighty  power  is  regulated 
by  infinite  wisdom,  and  actuated  and  exerted  by  un- 
speakable bounty. 

“ O that  men  would  praise  the  Lord,  for  his  goodness; 
and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men !” 
The  divine  goodness  spreads  and  extends  itself,  over  all 
the  parts  of  the  universe  ; and  embraces  the  whole  crea- 
tion in  its  arms  : it  not  only  displays  itself  most  illus- 
triously to  the  blessed  inhabitants  above ; but  also 
reaches  to  the  meanest  worm  that  crawls  upon  the 
ground.  The  beasts  of  the  field,  and  the  fowls  of  the  air, 
and  the  fishes  of  the  sea,  and  the  innumerable  swarms 
of  little  insects  which  we  can  hardly  discern  with  our 
eyes,  are  all  subjects  of  that  almighty  care  : by  him  they 
are  brought  forth  into  the  world  ; by  him  they  are  fur- 
nished with  provision  suitable  for  them  : “ These  all 
wait  upon  thee  ; that  thou  mayest  give  them  their  meat 
in  due  season.  That  thou  givest  them,  they  gather ; 
thou  openest  thine  hand,  they  are  filled  with  good. ”p 
But  here,  to  excite  us  to  thankfulness,  he  makes  choice 
of  an  instance  in  which  we  ourselves  are  more  nearly 


° Psalm  cxlvii.  1. 


p Psalm  civ.  27,  28. 


DISC.  V.]  OF  PRAISE  AND  THANKSGIt^lNG.  149 

concerned ; and  exhorts  ns  to  praise  the  Lord  for  his 
wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men.  If  the  good- 
ness of  God  to  the  holy  angels  be  above  our  reach  ; and 
his  bounty  to  the  inferior  creatures  be  below  our  no- 
tice,— yet, , surely,  we  must  be  infinitely  dull,  if  we  do 
not  observe  his  dealings  with  ourselves,  and  those  of 
our  kind.  As  our  interest  makes  us  more  sensible  of 
this  peculiar  bounty,  so  gratitude  obliges  us  to  a more 
particular  acknowledgment  of  it. 

Thus,  yon  have  the  meaning  and  import  of  the  text. 
I know  not  how  we  can  better  employ  the  rest  of  the 
time,  than  by  suggesting  to  your  meditations  particular 
instances  of  this  goodness,  and  of  God’s  wonderful  works 
to  the  children  of  men. 

Let  us,  then,  reflect  on  the  works  both  of  creation  and 
providence.  Let  us  consider  in  what  a goodly  and  well- 
furnished  world  he  hath  placed  us  ; how  “ he  hath 
stretched  out  the  heavens  as  a curtain  over  our  heads, 
and  therein  hath  set  a tabernacle  for  the  sun,”  which, 
as  a universal  lamp,  enlightens  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  earth.  “ His  going  forth  is  from  the  end  of  the 
heaven,  his  circuit  to  the  ends  thereof ; and  there  is 
nothing  hid  from  his  heat.”  In  the  morning  he  arises, 
and  makes  the  darkness  flee  before  him,  and  discovers 
all  the  beauty  and  lustre  of  things.  And  truly,  “ the 
light  is  sweet ; and  a pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to 
behold  the  sun.”  Nor  is  it  less  useful  and  advantageous 
for  directing  our  ways,  and  ordering  our  several  em- 
ployments j “ Man  goeth  forth  to  his  work,  and  to  his 
labor,  until  the  evening.  He  maketh  darkness,  and  it 
is  night.’’^^  The  curtains  are  drawn  and  all  things  hush- 
ed into  silence,  that  man  may  enjoy  the  more  quiet  re- 
pose : and  yet,  to  lessen  the  horror  of  darkness,  and  to 
guide  such  as  are  obliged  to  travel  in  the  night,  while  the 
sun  is  enlightening  another  part  of  the  world,  we  have 
the  moon  and  stars  to  supply  his  room.  “ O give  thanks 
unto  the  Lord,  for  he  is  good : for  his  mercy  endureth 
for  ever.  To  him,  that  by  wisdom  made  the  heavens  : 
for  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever.  To  him,  that  made 
great  lights  : for  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever.  The  sun 
to  rule  by  day  : for  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever.  The 


^ Psalm  civ.  23. 

13 


150*  THE  DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  [SCOUGAL, 

moon  and  stars  to  rule  by  night : for  his  mercy  endure th 
for  ever.” 

Again,  how  wonderfully  has  he  furni&hed  this  lower 
world  for  our  maintenance  and  accommodation.  “ The 
heaven,  even  the  heaven  of  heavens  are  the  Lord’s  : but 
the  earth  hath  he  given  to  the  children  of  men.*'  He 
hath  made  us  to  have  dominion  overall  the  works  of  his 
hands ; he  hath  put  all  things  under  our  feet : all  sheep 
and  oxen,  yea,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  : the  fowl  of 
the  air,  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  whatsoever  passeth 
through  the  paths  of  the  seas.”®  By  the  art  and  indus- 
try of  man,  the  swiftest  fowls  are  caught;  the  fiercest 
creatures  are  tamed  ; the  strongest  beasts  are  overcome  ; 
and  all  are  made  conducive  to  his  service.  The  horse 
helps  our  journey,  both  with  speed  and  ease  ; the  oxen 
labor  the  ground  for  us ; sheep  afford  us  meat  and 
clothes ; from  the  bowels  of  the  earth  we  dig  fuel,  me- 
tals, and  stones  ; which  are  still  the  more  plentiful,  as 
they  are  useful  and  advantageous  to  us.  Those  stones 
which  serve  for  building,  are  almost  every  where  ready 
at  hand  ; while  rubies  and  diamonds,  and  other  such  glit- 
tering trifles,  are  found  but  in  a few^  places  of  the  world, 
and  obtained  with  a great  deal  of  toil.  And  to  what 
hardship  should  all  sort  of  artificers  be  put,  if  iron  were 
as  scanty  as  gold  ? The  surface  of  the  earth  yields  grass 
for  the  cattle,  and  herb  for  the  service  of  man ; and 
wine  that  maketh  glad  the  heart  of  man,  and  bread 
which  strengthens  his  heart.  These  it  affords  us,  from 
time  to  time  ; and,  while  we  are  spending  the  produc- 
tions of  one  year,  God  is  providing  for  us  against  another. 
There  is  no  small  variety  of  seasons  and  influences 
which  concur  for  the  production  of  that  corn,  which  we 
murmur  for  so  much  when  we  want  it,  and  value  so  lit- 
tle when  it  abounds.  The  winter  cold  must  temper  and 
prepare  the  earth  ; the  gentle  spring  must  cherish  and 
foment  the  seed  ; vapors  must  be  raised  and  condensed 
into  clouds,  and  squeezed  out  and  sifted  into  little  drops, 
to  water  and  refresh  the  ground  ; and  then  the  summer 
heat  must  ripen  and  digest  the  corn,  before  it  be  fit  to 
be  cut  down.  “ Thou  visitest  the  earth  and  w'aterest  it : 
thou  greatly  enrichest  it  with  the  river  of  God  which  is 


' Psalm  cxv.  16. 


» Psalm  viii.  6,  7,  8. 


DISC.  V.]  OF  PRAISE  AND  THANKSGIVING.  151 

full  of  water  ! thou  preparest  them  corn,  when  thou 
hast  so  provided  for  it.  Thou  waterest  the  ridges  thereof 
abundantly:  thou  settlest  the  furrows  thereof:  thou 
makest  it  soft  with  showers  ; thou  blessest  the  springing 
thereof : thou  crownest  the  year  with  thy  goodness ; 
and  all  thy  paths  drop  fatness.  They  drop  upoa  the 
pastures  of  the  wilderness  ; and  the  little  hills  rejoice  on 
every  side.  The  pastures  are  clothed  with  flocks  ; the 
valleys  also  are  covered  over  with  corn  ; they  shout  for 
joy,  they  also  sing.”‘ 

“ O Lord,  how  wonderful  are  thy  works  ! in  wisdom 
hast  thou  made  them  all : the  earth  is  full  of  thy  riches. 
So  is  the  great  and  wide  sea,  wherein  are  things  creep- 
ing innumerable,  both  small  and  great  fishes.  There 
go  the  ships,”  those  great  engines  of  traffic  and  com- 
merce, by  which  every  country  is  easily  furnished  with 
the  productions  of  another.  And,  indeed,  it  is  a won- 
derful and  astonishing  contrivance  of  nature,  that  men 
should  be  easily  transported  to  the  remotest  places  in 
such  floating  houses,  and  carried,  so  to  speak,  upon  the 
wings  of  the  wind  ; that  they  should  be  able  to  find  out 
their  way  in  the  widest  ocean  and  darkest  night,  by  the 
direction  of  a trembling  needle,  and  by  the  unaccounta- 
ble influence  of  a sorry  stone.  “ They  that  go  down  to 
the  sea  in  ships,  that  do  business  in  great  waters  ; these 
men  see  the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  his  wonders  in  the 
deep.  For  he  commandeth,  and  raiseth  the  stormy 
wind,  which  lifteth  up  the  waves  thereof.  They  mount 
up  to  the  heaven,  they  go  down  again  to  the  depths,  their 
soul  is  melted  because  of  trouble.  They  reel  to  and  fro, 
and  stagger  like  a drunken  man,  and  are  at  their  wits’ 
end.  Then  they  cry  unto  the  Lord  in  their  trouble, 
and- he  bringeth  them  out  of  their  distresses.  He  mak- 
eth  the  storm  a calm,  so  that  the  waves  thereof  are  still. 
Then  are  they  glad,  because  they  are  quiet ; so  he  bring- 
eth them  unto  the  desired  haven.  O that  men  would 
therefore  praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness,  and  for  all 
the  wonders  that  he  doeth  for  the  children  of  men.”" 

But  now,  we  are  fallen,  unawares,  from  the  works  of 
creation,  to  those  of  providence.  Indeed,  it  is  hard  to 
keep  to  any  exact  method,  in  a subject  so  copious  ; where 


‘ Psalm  Ixv.  9,  10,  11,  13,  13. 


Psalm  ciii.  27,  &c. 


152  THE  DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  [sCOUGlAL. 

one  thing  obtrudes  itself  upon  us,  before  we  have  done 
with  another.  Let  us  call  back  our  thoughts,  to  a more 
orderly  consideration  of  that  bountiful  providence  which 
follows  us  from  time  to  time.  We  are  infinitely  indebted 
to  the  divine  goodness,  before  we  see  the  light  of  the 
world.  “ He  poureth  us  out  as  milk,  and  curdleth  us 
like  cheese.  He  clothes  us  with  skin  and  flesh,  and 
fenceth  us  with  bones  and  sinews.  He  granteth  us  life 
and  favor,  and  his  visitation  preserveth  our  spirit.”"^ — 
This  is  so  entirely  the  work  of  God,  that  the  parents  do 
not  so  much  as  understand  how  it  is  performed  ; for, 
who  knows  the  way  of  the  spirit,  how  it  comes  to  en- 
lighten a piece  of  matter ; or  how  the  bones  grow,  in 
the  womb  of  her  that  is  with  child  ? “I  will  praise  thee, 
for  I am  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made  : marvellous 
are  thy  works,  and  that  my  soul  knoweth  right  well. — 
My  substance  was  not  hid  from  thee,  when  I was  made 
in  secret,  and  curiously  wrought  in  the  lowest  parts  of 
the  earth.  Thine  eyes  did  see  my  substance  yet  being 
imperfect,  and  in  thy  book  were  all  my  members  writ- 
ten ; which  in  continuance  were  fashioned,  when  as  yet 
there  was  none  of  them.  How  precious  also  are  thy 
thoughts  unto  me,  O God  ! How  great  is  the  sum  of 
them  Nine  months  ordinarily  pass  in  the  forming 
of  this  curious  and  wonderful  piece,  before  it  be  exposed 
to  the  view  of  the  world  ; and  then,  the  prisoner  is  re- 
leased from  that  narrow  confinement,  and  the  mother 
and  the  child  are  delivered  together.  The  mother  for- 
getteth  her  anguish  and  pangs,  for  joy  that  a man-child 
is  born  into  the  world.  The  poor  infant  is  naked  and 
weak,  ready  to  expire  for  hunger  and  cold,  unable  to 
do  any  thing  for  itself  but  Aveep  and  cry  : but  he  that 
brought  it  into  the  world,  has  already  provided  for-  its 
sustentation.  The  mother’s  breasts  are  filled  with  a 
wholesome  and  delicious  liquor,  which  fails  not,  from 
time  to  time  ; but  is  invisibly  supplied,  like  the  widow  of 
Sarepta’s  oil,  till  the  child  become  capable  of  stronger 
food. 

But  it  was  not  enough,  that  mothers  should  be  ena- 
bled to  sustain  their  infants,  unless  they  had  been  also 
powerfully  inclined  to  it ; and,  therefore,  God  hath  im- 


T Job  X.  10,  11,  12. 


w Psalm  cxxxix.  14,  15,  16,  17. 


DISC.  V.]  OF  PRAISE  AND  THANKSGIVING.  153 

planted  in  them  those  bowels  of  kindness  and  compas- 
sion, which  prompts  them  to  the  most  tender  and  aftec- 
tionate  care,  and  makes  them  as  ready  to  help  their  child- 
ren’s necessities  as  their  own  : which,  though  it  hardly 
deserve  the  name  of  a virtue,  being  common  to  them 
with  the  brutes,  for  “ even  the  sea-monsters  draw  out 
their  breasts,  and  give  suck  to  their  young  yet,  cer- 
tainly, it  is  an  effect  of  the  divine  wisdom  that  infants 
may  not  want  those  succors,  which  would  never  have 
been  so  effectually  secured  to  them  by  a law.  Mean- 
while, the  poor  infant  is  so  weak,  and  so  unable  to  en- 
dure the  least  violence,  and  withal  exposed  to  so  innu- 
merable dangers,  that  the  mother’s  solicitude  and  care 
would  be  to  little  purpose,  if  it  were  not  preserved  by  a 
higher  and  invisible  power,  which  watches  for  its  safety, 
and  keeps  it  from  being  overlaid,  when  the  mother  and 
nurse  are  fast  asleep. 

As  we  grow  in  years,  our  necessities  multiply,  and 
dangers  increase  rather  than  diminish  ; and  we  are  still 
more  and  more  obliged  to  God,  for  the  supply  of  the 
one,  and  for  our  preservation  from  the  other.  We 
think,  perhaps,  ‘ we  have  now  set  up  for  ourselves  ; 
and  can  provide  what  is  necessary  by  our  own  industry ; 
and  can  keep  ourselves  out  of  harm’s  way.’  But  there 
cannot  be  a more  foolish  and  unreasonable  thought. — 
There  needs  but  a little  consideration  to  undeceive  us. 
All  that  we  project  and  do  for  ourselves  depends  on  the 
integrity  of  our  faculties,  and  the  soundness  of  our  rea- 
son ; a happiness  which  we  can  never  secure  to  our- 
selves. I choose  this  instance  the  rather,  because  it  is  a 
mercy  invaluable  in  itself,  and  I fear  very  seldom  consi- 
dered by  us.  What  an  unspeakable  blessing  it  is  that 
we  are  preserved  in  our  right  wits  ; that  we  are  not  roar- 
ing in  some  bedlam,  or  running  furiously  up  and  down 
the  streets  ; that  we  have  not  our  spirits  sunk  into  silli- 
ness or  stupidity,  which  would  make  every  little  child 
mock  and  deride  us ! It  is  possible  enough,  that  this 
should  befal  the  wisest  and  most  steadfast  of  us  all.  A 
stroke  on  the  head,  a few  more  degrees  of  heat  in  the 
blood,  a little  more  agitation  of  the  vital  spirits,  were 
enough  to  do  the  business.  So  weak  and  mutable  crea- 


Lam.  iv.  3. 


154  THE  DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  [SCOUGAL* 

tures  are  we ; so  small  is  the  distance  between  a wise  man 
and  a fool.  Next  to  the  use  of  our  reason,  how  much 
are  we  indebted  to  the  divine  goodness,  for  our  health 
and  welfare  ! These  bodies  of  ours  arb  made  up  of  so 
various  parts,  and  withal,  so  nice  and  delicate,  that  the 
least  thing  in  the  world  is  enough  to  entangle  and  dis- 
order them.  A drop  of  humor,  or  a grain  of  sand,  will 
sometimes  occasion  such  anguish  and  pain,  as  render  a 
man  insensible  to  all  the  comforts  which  he  enjoys  in  the 
world  : and  they  who  understand  any  thing  of  the  hu- 
man body,  will  justly  wonder  that  all  the  parts  are  kept 
in  order  for  an  hour.^  What  a mercy,  therefore,  ought 
we  to  account  it,  to  find  ourselves  in  health  and  vigor  ; 
no  aching  in  our  head,  no  noisomeness  in  our  stomach, 
no  fever  in  the  blood,  none  of  the  humors  vitiated,  none 
of  those  innumerable  conduits  broken  which  convey 
them,  but  all  the  organs  performing  their  proper  func- 
tions, and  a sprightly  vigor  possessing  every  part  ? — 
How  much  are  we  indebted  to  that  providence,  which 
preserves  us  from  falls  and  bruises,  and  keeps  all  our 
bones  so  that  none  of  them  is  broken ; which  watches 


y ‘ Death  meets  us  every  where,  and  is  procured  by  every  instrument, 
and  in  all  chances,  and  enters  in  at  many  doors  ; by  violence  and  secret 
influence  ; by  the  aspect  of  a star  and  the  smell  of  a mist ; by  the  emis- 
sions of  a cloud,  and  the  meeting  of  a vapor  ; by  the  fall  of  a chariot, 
and  the  stumbling  at  a stone  ; by  a full  meal  or  an  empty  stomacli ; by 
watching  at  the  wane,  or  by  watching  at  prayers  ; by  the  sun  or  the 
moon  ; by  a heat  or  a cold  ; by  sleepless  nights  or  sleeping  days  ; by 
water  frozen  into  the  hardness  and  sharpness  of  a dagger,  or  water 
thawed  into  the  floods  of  a river  ; by  a hair  or  a raisin;  by  violent  mo- 
tion or  sitting  still ; by  severity  or  dissolution  ; by  God’s  mercy  or 
God’s  anger;  by  every  thing  in  providence  and  every  thing  in  manners ; 
by  every  thing  in  nature  and  every  thing  in  chance.’ 

Jeremy  Taylor.  Works-,  vol.  iv.  p.  .311. 

‘ Some  from  the  stranded  vessel  force  their  way ; 

Fearful  of  fate,  they  meet  it  in  the  sea  : 

Some,  who  escape  the  fury  of  the  wave. 

Sicken  on  earth,  and  sink  into  a grave. 

In  journeys  or  at  home,  in  war  or  peace. 

By  hardships  many,  many  fall  by  case. 

Each  changing  season  does  its  poison  bring. 

Rheums  chill  the  winter,  agues  blast  the  spring  ; 

Wet,  dry,  cold,  hot,  at  the  appointed  hour, 

All  act  subservient  to  the  tyrant’s  power ; 

And,  when  obedient  Nature  knows  his  will, 

A fly,  a grape-stone,  or  a hair  can  kill.’ — Prior.  En. 


DISC.  V.]  OF  PRAISE  AND  THANKSGIVING.  155 

over  US,  when  we  are  not  able  to  care  for  ourselves  ? — 
What  a blessing  it  is,  to  enjoy  the  repose  of  the  night ; 
that  we  are  not  wearied  with  endless  tossings  and  roll- 
ings, nor  “ scared  with  dreams,  and  terrified  with  vi- 
sions,” visitations  of  which  holy  Job  complains  ; that  we 
are  protected  from  fire  and  violence,  from  evil  spirits, 
and  from  evil  men  : “ I will  both  lay  me  down  in  peace, 
and  sleep  ; for  thou,*  Lord,  only,  makest  me  to  dwell  in 
safety  ?” 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  our  food  and  raiment,  of 
our  houses  and  manifold  accommodations ; of  the  kind- 
ness of  our  neighbors,  and  the  love  of  our  friends ; of 
all  the  means  of  our  subsistence,  and  all  the  comforts  of 
our  lives?  We  are  made  up,  as  it  were,  of  a great 
many  several  pieces,  have  such  a variety  of  interests 
and  enjoyments  concurring  to  our  present  happiness, 
that  it  is  an  unspeakable  goodness  which  continues 
them  all  with  us,  from  time  to  time ; that,  when  we 
awake  in  the  morning,  we  shall  find  our  minds  clear, 
our  bodies  well,  our  house  safe,  all  our  friends  irf  health, 
and  all  our  interests  secure.  He  is  “a  wall  of  fire 
about  us,  and  about  all  that  we  have,  by  night  and  by 
day,  and  his  mercies  are  new  every  morning.”  It  were 
tedious  to  speak  of  those  more  public  mercies,  the 
peace  and  tranquillity  of  kingdoms,  and  all  the  happy 
effects  of  society  and  government.  I shall  only  say, 
that  it  is  a signal  instance  of  the  divine  wisdom  and 
goodness  in  the  government  of  the  world,  that  such  a 
vast  number  of  persons,  actuated  only  by  self-love, 
should  all  conspire  for  the  public  interest,  and  so  emi- 
nently advance  one  another’s  welfare  ; that  magistrates 
should  so  willingly  undergo  the  trouble  of  government : 
and  that  a heady  and  inconsiderate  multitude  should  be 
commanded  and  overawed  by  a single  man.  Certainly 
it  can  be  no  other,  but  that  same  God,  who  stilleth  the 
noise  of  the  waves,  that  can  prevent  or  compose  the 
tumults  of  the  people. 

Hitherto  w'e  have  considered  those  instances  of  the 
divine  bounty  which  relate  to  our  temporal  concerns. 
But  surely  we  were  made  for  some  higher  and  more 
excellent  end,  than  to  pass  a few  months  or  years  in 
this  world,  to  eat,  drink,  sleep,  and  die.  God  has  de- 
signed us  for  a more  lasting  and  durable  life  ; and  has. 


156 


THE  DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  ‘ [SCOUGAL. 

accordingly,  made  greater  provisions  for  it.  He  takes 
care  of  our  very  bodies ; but  has  an  infinitely  greater 
regard  to  those  spiritual  and  immortal  substances  which 
he  has  breathed  into  us.  And  here,  in  all  reason,  we 
ought  to  begin  with  that  great  and  fundamental  mercy, 
which  is  the  root  and  spring  of  all  his  other  mercies 
toward  the  souls  of  men,  I mean  the  incarnation  and 
the  death  of  his  only  begotten  Son.  But,  alas ! where 
are  those  affections  with  which  that  mercy  should  be 
spoken  and  heard  of?  Our  dulness  makes  me  alrfiost 
afraid  to  meddle  with  so  high  a theme.  That  the  eternal 
Son  of  God,  the  Wisdom  of  the  Father,  the  Maker 
and  Lord  of  all  things,  should  clothe  himself  with  the 
infirmities  of  the  human  nature,  and  come  down  from  the 
habitation  of  his  glory,  and  take  up  his  abode  among 
the  wretched  and  rebellious  children  of  men,  to  reclaim 
them  from  their  wickedness  and  folly,  and  reduce  them 
to  their  duty  and  their  happiness, — that  he  should  have 
gone  up  and  down  in  the  world  for  upward  of  thirty 
years,  in  poverty,  affliction,  and  contempt;  doing  good 
and  suffering  evil;  scattering  blessings,  and  enduring 
injuries,  wherever  he  came ; and  at  last,  should  have 
yielded  up  his  life  in  unspeakable  anguish  and  torment, 
to  be  a propitiation  for  our  sins, — these  are  matters 
which  should  never  be  spoken  or  heard  of,  without  our 
losing  ourselves,  as  it  were,  in  a rapture  of  admiration, 
gratitude,  and  love : “ Oh  ! the  length,  breadth,  depth, 
and  height,  of  that  love  which  passeth  all  knowledge;” 
which  made  God  assume  our  nature,  that  we  might  be- 
come partakers  of  his  ! It  is  true,  all  that  our  Saviour 
has  done  and  suffered,  proves  ineffectual  to  the  greater 
part  of  mankind.  But  surely  they  have  themselves  to 
blame.  God  hath  both  said  and  sworn,  “ that  he  hath 
no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  sinners,  but  would  have 
them  rather  repent  and  live.”  And,  indeed,  his  way  of 
dealing  with  them  sufficiently  declares  the  same  truth. 
With  what  long-suffering  patience  does  he  wait  for  their 
repentance ; what  pains  does  he  take  to  reclaim  and  to 
restore  them ! 

It  is  an  astonishing  thing,  to  consider  what  indignities 
and  afiVonts  are,  every  day,  done  unto  that  infinite  Ma- 
jesty by  sinful  dust  and  ashes,  and  that  he  does  not 
avenge  himself  by  their  total  overthrow;  that  they 


5>ISC.  V.]  OF  FRAISE  AND  THANKSGIVING.  J57 

should  violate  his  law,  and  despise  his  threatenings,  and 
defy  him,  as  it  were,  to  his  very  face,  and  yet  that  he 
should  pity  and  spare  them,  and  wait  to  be  gracious 
unto  them.  Were  the  government  of  the  world  com- 
mitted to  the  meekest  person  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 
he  would  never  endure  the  outrages  which  are  commit- 
ted against  heaven  ; he  would  presently  lose  all  his 
patience,  and  turn  the  whole  frame  into  ruin.  But  God 
is  love.  His  thoughts  and  ways  are  not  like  those  of 
men ; but,  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,  so 
are  his  thoughts  and  ways  higher  than  ours.”  And, 
when  the  obstinate  wickedness  of  sinful  creatures  forces, 
as  it  were,  and  extorts  punishment  from  his  hands, 
what  reluctancy,  what  unwillingness  does  he  express 
to  this  work;  this  strange  and  unnatural  work,  as  him- 
self seems  to  term  it!  How  shall  I give  thee  up,  O 
Ephraim  ? How  shall  I give  thee  up  ? O that  my  peo- 
ple had  hear^ned  unto  me,  that  Israel  had  known  my 
ways  ! O J^usalem ! Jerusalem ! thou  that  killest 
the  prophets,  and  stonest  them  which  are  sent  unto 
thee,  how  often  would  I have ‘gathered  thy  children 
together,  even  as  a hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under 
her  wings,  and  ye  would  not!  Behold,  your  house  is 
left  unto  you  desolate  !” 

Again,  as  God  waits  patiently  for  our  reformation, 
so  he  makes  use  of  many  methods  and  means  to  bring 
us  unto  it.  He  has  published  the  Gospel  through  the 
world,  and  brought  down  the  knowledge  of  it  to  our 
days,  in  spite  of  all  the  opposition  of  devils  and  men. 
He  has  established  a Church,  and  appointed  a whole 
order  of  men,  whose  peculiar  calling  and  business  in 
the  world  is*  to  tak6  care  of  people’s  souls,  to  instruct 
them  in  the  way  to  heaven,  and,  as  ambassadors  in 
Christ’s  stead,  to  beseech  them  to  be  reconciled  unto 
God.  These  are  some  of  his  common  mercies  ; but 
who  can  express  that  favor  and  love  which  he  shows  to 
his  own,  to  those  blessed  persons  whom  he  chooses 
and  causes  to  approach  unto  himself,  when  he  rescues 
them  from  the  vanity  of  their  conversation,  and  from 
“ that  pollution  which  is  in  the  world,  through  lust 
when  he  moulds  their  souls  into  a conformity  with  him- 
self, and  stamps  his  blessed  image  upon  them  ; when  he 
visits  them  with  his  Holy  Spirit,  and  fills  their  heart 


15S  THE  DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  [SCOUGAt. 

with  those  hidden  pleasures,  which  none  can  understand 
but  those  that  feel  them : “ A stranger  intermeddleth 
not  with  their  joy.”  And  yet  even  these  are  but  the 
earnest  of  that  great  felicity  for  which  he  has  designed 
us,  of  “those  joys  that  are  at  his  right  hand,  those 
pleasures  which  endure  for  evermore.”  “ Eye  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  can  it  enter  into  the  heart  of 
man  to  conceive,  what  God  hath  prepared  for  those 
that  love  him.”  And  “ it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we 
shall  be.”  Meanwhile,  those  small  and  imperfect  dis- 
coveries which  are  made  to  us  in  the  holy  Scriptures, 
of  that  inconceivable  happiness,  are  enough  to  over- 
whelm us  with  admiration  and  wonder.  To  think,  that 
the  blessed  day  is  coming,  when  we  shall  be  loosed  from 
these  dull  and  lumpish  bodies ; those  sinks  of  corrup- 
tion, diseases  and  pains ; those  prisons  and  dungeons 
of  our  heaven-born  souls  ; and,  being  clothed  with  robes 
of  light  and  glory,  shall  get  above  the  clouds,  and  all 
those  storms  and  tempests  which  are  hJfc  below  ; and 
be  carried  into  those  blessed  regions  of  calmness  and 
serenity,  of  peace  and  joy,  of  happiness  and  security; 
when  we  shall  come  unto  the  “ innumerable  company 
of  angels,  and  the  general  assembly  of  the  Church  of 
the  hrst-born,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect; 
and  to  Je-sus  the  mediator  of  the  new  covenant ;”  there 
to  behold  the  glory  of  God,  and  all  the  splendor  of  the 
court  of  heaven ; to  view  and  contemplate  that  infinite 
power  which  created  the  world,  that  unsearchable  wis- 
dom which  orders  all  things,  that  unspeakable  goodness 
which  employs  them  both ; nay,  “ so  to  see  God  as  to 
become  like  unto  him  ;”J  and  “ beholding,  with  open 
face,  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  to  be  changed  into  the 
same  image,  from  glory  to  glory;”™  to  receive  the  con- 
tinual illapses  of  the  divine  goodness,  and  the  constant 
expressions  of  his  favor  and  love ; and  to  have  our  own 
souls  melted  and  dissolved  into  the  flames  of  reciprocal 
aftection,  and  that  fire  fed  and  nourished  by  uninter- 
rupted enjoyments ; in  a word,  to  be  continually  trans- 
ported into  ecstacies  and  ra,ptures,  and  swallowed  up  in 
the  embraces  of  eternal  sweetness,  and  to  be  lost,  as  it 
were,  in  the  source  and  fountain  of  happiness  and  bliss! 


1 1 John  iii.  2. 


" 2 Cor.  iii.  18. 


DISC.  V.]  OF  PRAISE  AND  THANKSGIVING.  159 

“ Lord,  what  is  man,  that  thou  takest  knowledge  of 
him  ? or  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  inakest  such  account  of 
him  ? " and  that  thou  shouldest  set  thine  heart  so  much 
upon  him  ? ^ O that  men  would  therefore  praise  the 
Lord  for  his  goodness,  and  for  his  wonderful  works  to 
the  children  of  men ! O give  thanks  unto  the  Lord, 
for  he  is  good  ; for  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever.  Blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord  from  this  time  forth  and  for 
evermore.”  Amen. 


Psalm  cxliv.  3. 


* Job  vii.  17. 


160 


IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [SCOUGAL. 


SERMON  VI. 

THE  IMI’ORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL 
FUNCTION. 

PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  SYJS’OD  OF  ABERDEEN. 


2 Cor.  ii.  16. 

Who  is  ^sufficient  for  these  things  7 

Reverend  and  dearly  beloved  men,  brethi’en,  and 
fathers — it  is  one  of  the  advantages  of  that  peace  and 
tranquillity, . with  which  Almighty  God  is  pleased  to 
bless  the  poor  Church,  that  its  officers  have  liberty  of 
assembling  together  on  these  occasions,  for  mutual 
assistance  and  counsel,  in  the  exercise  of  their  holy 
function.  And,  indeed,  if  there  were  no  matter  of 
public  deliberation,  yet  ought  we  gladly  to  embrace  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  one  another’s  faces  ; not  only 
that  we  may  maintain  and  express  a brotherly  corres- 
pondence and  affection,  but  also,  that  we  may  animate 
and  excite  one  another  to  greater  measures  of  diligence 
and  zeal ; as  coals,  being  gathered  together,  mutually 
receive  and  propagate  some  new  degrees  of  vigor  and 
heat.  This  I have  always  looked  upon  as  none  of  the 
meanest  advantages  of  these  synodical  meetings,  and 
shall  think  myself  very  happy  if  my  poor  endeavors,  in 
the  performance  of  this  present  duty,  may,  by  the  divine 
blessing,  contribute  any  thing  toward  this  excellent 
and  desirable  purpose.  To  this  end,^  I have  made  choice 
of  a text,  w hich  I hope  may  afford  us  some  useful  medi- 
tations, for  awakening  in  our  souls  a deeper  sense  of 
those  great  engagements  under  which  we  lie. 

The  blessed  apostle,  in  the  former  verse,  and  in  the 
beginning  of  this,  had  been  speaking  of  the  different 
success  the  Gospel  met  with  among  those  to  whom  it 
w^as  preached ; that  it  was  not  like  those  weak  and 
harmless  medicines,  which,  if  they  do  no  good,  are  sure 
to  do  no  hurt ; but  like  some  perfumes,  which  are  com^ 


161 


DISC.'  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION. 

fortable  and  strengthening  to  the  wholesome,  but  trou- 
blesome and  noxious  to  the  weak, — so  does  it  prove  a 
vital  savor  to  those  who  receive  and  obey  it,  but  a most 
deadly  poison  to  all  who  reject  and  despise  it:  “For 
we  are  unto  God  a SAveet  savor  of  Christ,  in  them  that 
are  saved,  and  in  them  that  perish ; to  the  one,  we  are  a 
savor  of  death,  unto  death ; and  to  the  other,  a savor  of 
life,  unto  life.”  And  then  he  takes  occasion  to  consider 
what  a great  matter  it  is  to  be  employed  in  those  admi- 
nistrations Avhich  so  nearly  concern  the  happiness  and 
misery  of  mankind : “ and  who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things  ?” 

We  shall  not  detain  you  with  an  explication  of  the 
Avords.  Two  things,  I conceive,  are  implied  in  them  : 
1.  The  importance  : 2.  The  difficulty  of  the  Ministerial 
Function.  For,  if  a business  be  of  small  concern,  it  is 
little  matter  who  have  the  management  of  it;  there  is 
no  great  harm  done  if  it  miscarry ; any  body  is  sufficient 
for  that  thing.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  matter  be  never 
so  Aveighty;  if  there  be  no  difficulty  in  it,  no  extraordi- 
nary endowments  ^e  necessary,  in  those  to  Avhom  it  is 
committed ; comnro^  prudence,  and  little  care  will  suf- 
fice ; there  is  no  likelihood  that  it  can  miscarry.  But 
the  work  of  the  ministry  is  at  once  so  important  and 
so  difficult,  of  so  great  coiiseqiiehce,  and  so  hard  to  be 
performed,  that  there  is  a great  deal  of  reason  for  an 
emphatic  interrogation:  “Who  is  sufficient. for  these 
things  ?” 

I.  First,  Let  us  fix  our  thoughts  awhile  on  the 
Aveight  and  importance  of  the  ministry ; and  we  shall 
find  that  it  is  a greater  burthen  lying  on  our  shoulders, 
than  if  the  greatest  affairs  of  this  world  were  devoh^ed 
upon  us,  and  Ave  held  up  the  pillars  of  the  earth.  This 
will  appear,  whether  we  consider  the  relation  in  Avhich 
we  stand  to  the  Almighty  God,  or  the  charge  of  the 
flocks  which  are  committed  to  our  care. 

To  begin  with  the  first.  That  infinite  majesty  which 
created,  and  Avhich  continually  upholds,  the  earth,  and 
all  things  in  it,  as  the  just  owner  and  Lord  of  the  whole 
creation,  (for  all  are  his  servants,  and  must  obey  his 
Avill,)  is  yet  pleased  to  claim  a special  property  in 
some  things  which  he  chooses  for  himself,  and  em- 
ploys for  peculiar  designs : “ Nevertheless,  of  old  did 


162  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [SCOUGAL. 

he  choose  a house  for  himself,  and  a place  to  be 
called  by  his  name.  At  Salem  was  his  tabernacle,  and 
hjs  dwelling-place  in  Zion.  The  Lord  loved  the  gates 
of  Zion,  more  than  all  the  dwellings  of  Jacob.”  And 
the  Church,  in  all  ages,  has  thought  it  fit  to  separate 
some  places  from  vulgar  and  common  use,  and  to  ap- 
propriate them  to  the  service  of  God.  Again,  though 
all  times  and  seasons  belong  unto  God,  yet  has  he  set 
apart  a day  for  his  worship,  and  sanctified  a Sabbath 
for  himself.p  All  men  were  created  for  the  honor  of 
God,  and  are  infinitely  obliged  to  serve  him ; yet,  be- 
cause the  greater  part  of  mankind  are  too  much  engaged 
ill  worldly  affairs,  and  have  their,  souls  fettered  in  the 
distracting  cares  of  this  life,^  and  almost  buried  in  their 
bodies,  it  has  pleased  the  divine  wisdom  to  call  forth  a 
select  number  of  men,  who,  being  delivered  from  those 
entanglements,  and  having  their  minds  more  highly 
purified,  and  more  peculiarly  fitted  for  the  offices  of 
religion,  may  attend  continually  on  that  very  thing. 
Religion  is  every  man’s  general  calling ; but  it  is  our 
particular  calling  also : and  while  tlm  laborer  is  at  his 
plough,  the  craftsman  at  his  forge,  »d  the  merchant  in 
his  shop,  the  minister  ought  to  be  employed  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  devotion,  for  the  purpose  of  advancing  piety 
and  the  honor  of  our  Maker.  My  beloved,  you  are 
deputed,  as  it  were,  by  the  whole  creation,  at  least  by 
the  inferior’  world,  to  present  their  homage  and  service 
to  God,  and  to  praise  him  for  all  his  works.  You  ought 
to  maintain  a correspondence  between  heaven  and 
earth,  to  deprecate  the  wrath  of  God,  and  to  avert  his 
vengeance  and  plagues  from  mankind.  Your  business 
is  the  same  with  that  of  the  holy  angels : you  dwell  in 
the  house  of  God,  and  should  be  continually  praising 
him.  And  this  is  an  employment  so  holy,  that,  were 
OUT  souls  a’s  pure  as  cherubs,  as  zealous  and  active  as 
the  blessed  spirits  above,  we  should  yet  have  reason  to 
cover  our  faces,  and  to  be  swallowed  up  in  a deep  sense 
of  our  own  insufiiciency.  And  what  is  sinful  dust  and 
ashes,  that  he  should  stand  in  so  near  a relation  to  the 
Lord  of  glory  ? What  is  man,  O blessed  God  I that 
tliou  shouldst  choose  him,  and  cause  him  to  approach 

p See  Joseph  Mede’s  masterly  sermon  on  1 Cor.  xi.  22;  and  Dr. 
Townson’s  discourse  on  ‘ The  Sabbath  and  Sanctuary^ — Ed. 


DISC.  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  163 

unto  thee?  “that  he  should  dwell  in  thy  courts,  arid  be 
satisfied  with  the  goodness  of  thy  house,  even  of  thy 
holy  temple  ?”‘J  The  priesthood,  under  the  law,  was  a 
very  sacred  and  venerable  thing ; and  no  profane  hand 
might  intermeddle  with  the  meanest  offices  that  belonged 
unto  it.  All  the  zeal,  and  seemingly  religious  care, 
which  Uzzah  had  for  the  tottering  ark,  served  not  to 
excuse  his  presumption  when  he  intruded  upon  the 
Levitical  function : but  as  the  Gospel-ministry  is  so 
much  more  excellent  and  sublime,  being  intrusted  with 
the  administration  of  those  holy  mysteries  which  were 
but  shadowed  in  the  former, — how  pure  and  holy 
ought  those  lips  to  be,  by  which  God  speaks  unto  his 
people,  and  by  which  they  speak  unto  him;  which  some- 
times pronounce  those  powerful  and  effectual  sentences 
of  absolution  and  excommunication,  which  are  so  surely 
ratified  in  heaven  ; and  those  hands  which  are  employed 
in  the  laver  of  regeneration,  and  to  handle  the  bread  of 
life  ! ‘ These  are  the  men  who  assist  at  the  pangs  of 

the  new  birth,  and  to  whom  baptismal  regeneration  is 
committed ; by  those  who  put  on  Christ,  and  are  bu- 
ried with  the  Son  of  God,  and  so  become  members  of 
that  blessed  head. ' Upon  which  account  the  sacerdotal 
function  is  more  creditable  than  that  of  kings  arid 
princes ; and  we  owe  more  honor  unto  priests,  than 
unto  parents  themselves ; for  they  have  begotten  us  of 
blood,  and  of  the  will  of  the  flesh;  but  these  are  the 
authors  of  that  nativity  which  we  have  from  God  ; that 
adoption,  whereby,  through  grace,  we  become  the  child- 
ren of  the  Most  High.’"'  And  again,  the  same  father, 
speaking  of  the  sacerdotal  power,  expresses  it  in  these 
terms  : ‘ Men  who  live  on  earth  dispense  the  things  that 
are  in  heaven ; and  are  intrusted  with  a power  to  which 
neither  angels  nor  archangels  can  pretend;  for  to  none 
of  these  was  it  said,  “What  ye  bind  on  earth,  shall  Jbe 
bound  in  heaven.”  . Earthly  princes  have  the  power  of 
binding,  but  it  is  only  the  bodies  of  men.  These  bands 
that  I speak  of,  take  hold  of  their  souls,  and  reach  unto 
the  very  heavens ; so  that  God  ratifies  above,  what  the 
priest  determines  below;  and  the  decrees  of  his  servants 


*1  Psalm  liv.  4. 

' S.  Chrysostom,  de  Sacerdotio^  lib.  iii.* 


164  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [SCOUGAL. 

are  confirmed  by  their  Lord.  “The  Father  hath  given 
all  judgment  to  the  Son;”  but  now,  it  seems,  the  Son 
delivers  it  to  the  pastors  of  the  Church  ; and  so  eminent 
is  this  authority,  that  one  would  think  the  persons  in- 
vested with  it  must  needs  be  raised  above  the  common 
condition  of  men,  and  exempted  from  human  affections, 
and,  as  it  were,  already  placed  in  heaven.’  Thus  far 
this  holy  father.  Nor  can  I pass  by  what  he  says  of 
that  ineffable  privilege,  of  the  celebration  of  the  holy 
sacrament,  though  some  of  his  expressions,  being  figu- 
rative and  hyperbolical,  have  been  abused  by  the  Romish 
party : ‘ When  thou  dost  behold  the  Lord  of  glory  of- 
fered up,  and  the  priest  performing  the  sacrifice,  and 
the  people  round  about  dyed,  as  it  were,  and  made  red, 
with  that  precious  blood,  where,  I pray  thee,  dost  thou 
conceive  thyself  to  be?  Dost  thou  think  thou  art  on 
earth,  and  conversing  among  mortal  creatures;  or  art 
thou  not,  rather,  on  a sudden  transported  into  heaven? 
Dost  thou  not  lose  all  thoughts  of  the  body  and  material 
things,  and,  with  a pure  mind  and  naked  soul,  be- 
hold the  things  that  are  done  in  those  regions  above  ? 
And  when  the  minister  has  invoked  the  Divine  Spirit, 
and  performed  those  reverend  and  dreadful  mysteries, 
and  holds  the  Lord  of  all  things  in  his  hand,  tell  me,  I 
beseech  you,  in  what  order  of  things  we  are  to  place 
him?  What  uprightness,  what  purity  is  required  of 
him ! What  hands  should  they  be  that  administer  those 
things ! What  lips  that  utter  and  pronounce  those  words ! 
For,  at  that  time,  the  holy  angels  stand  by  the  priest ; 
the  place  is  full  of  blessed  spirits,  who  desire  to  look 
into  those  things ; and  all  the  orders  of  the  heavenly 
host  shout,  and  raise  their  voice  together,  as  we  may 
easily  believe,  if  we  consider  the  work  that  is  then  in 
hand.’  I cannot  relate  all  that  this  excellent  person 
speaks  to  the  same  purpose,  but  shall  proceed  to  the 
next  thing  we  proposed.  Namely,. 

The  weight  and  importance  of  the  ministerial  function, 
(considered  in  relation  to  the  people  committed  to  our 
charge.  We  are  not  intrusted  with  their  fortune  or  estate, 
nor  with  their  bodily-health  and  welfare,  nor  with  the  af- 
fairs of  state,  or  the  interest  of  kingdoms ; though,  indeed, 
religion  has  no  small  influence  on  these  ; and  the  labors 
of  ministers,  if  successful,  would  contribute  exceedingly 


165 


b!SC.  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION. 

to  the  public  tranquillity,  and  the  present  felicity  of 
men.  But  our  main  business  lies  another  way.  We 
have  to  do  with  rational  and  immortal  souls,  those  most 
noble  and  divine  substances,  which  proceeded  from  God 
and  are  capable  of  being  united  to  him  eternally,  but 
withal  in  hazard  of  being  eternally  separated  from 
him, — ‘ these  stakes,’  as  the  poetical  and  philosophic 
father  calls  them,  ‘between  God  and  the  devil and  on 
us  it  in  some  measure  depends,  to  whose  share  they 
shall  fall ; whether  they  shall  be  angels  or  fiends.  We 
may  say,  with  reason,  of  our  office,  what  the  painter 
vainly  boasted  of,  ‘ we  work  for  eternity.’^  The  im- 
presses we  make,  shall  last  for  ever.  My  beloved,  the 
most  serious  of  our  thoughts  come  very  far  short  of  the 
inestimable  worth  of  the  ‘ depositum,’  that  treasure 
which  is  committed  to  our  care.  He  who  created  and 
redeemed  the  souls  of  men,  best  understands  their  value : 
and  we  see  in  what  esteem  he  holds  them,  by  the  pains 
which  he  is  pleased  to  take  about  them.  Their  salva- 
tion was  contrived  before  the  mountains  were  brought 
forth,  before  the  foundation  of  the  earth  was  laid  ; the 
design  was  formed  from  all  eternity  ; and  glorious  are 
the  methods  by  which  it  is  accomplished.  ‘ At  this,  both 
the  law  and  the  prophets  aimed.  To  this  purpose,  the 
Deity  emptied  itself  and  was  clothed  with  the  human 
nature ; to  this  purpose  was  that  strange  and  wonderful 
conjunction,  God  and  man  united  together  !’"»  At  this 
end  all  the  actions  and  all  the  sufferings  of  pur  blessed 
Saviour  aimed ; for  this  he  was  born,  and  for  this  he 
died.  And  shall  we  undervalue  the  price  of  his  blood, 
or  think  it  a small  matter  to  have  the  charge  of  those  for 
Avhom  it  was  shed  ? It  is  the  Church  of  God  which  we 
must  oversee  and  feed;  that  Church  for  which  the  world 
is  upheld,  which  is  sanctified  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  on 
which  the  angels  themselves  attend.  What  a weighty 
charge  is  this  we  have  undertaken  ! “ Who  is  sufficient 
for  these  things  ?” 


• AfJi(pta6T]Tr]ixaTa  rov  Qeov  Kai  Saifxovoiv, — SynESIUs. 

‘ ‘ Laboramus  aeternitati.’ 

® ‘ Hue  magistra  lex  tendit ; hue,  inter  Christum  et  legem,  interjeeti 
prophetsB ; hue  exinanita  Deltas ; hue  assumpta  caro ; hue  nova  ill£^ 
mixtio.’ — S.  Gregor.  Naz, 


166  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [SCOUGAL. 

That  these  matters  may  yet  make  a deeper  impres- 
sion on  our  hearts,  let  lis  further  consider  the  dreadful 
consequences  of  miscarriage  in  the  discharge  of  the 
ministerial  function;  and  we  shall  find  that  it  reflects  a 
great  deal  of  dishonor  on  the  divine  Majesty,  and  on 
our  blessed  Savior  ; that  it  very  much  hazards  the  souls 
of  our  people,  and  certainly  ruins  our  own.  I say,  it  re- 
flects dishonor  on  Almighty  God  ; as  the  faults  of  ser- 
vants commonly  prejudice  the  reputation  of  their  mas- 
ters, and  as  the  failings  of  ambassadors  are  imputed  to 
their  princes.  We  stand  in  a nearer  relation  to  God, 
and  are  supposed  to  be  best  acquainted  with  his  will, 
and  to  carry  the  deepest  impressions  of  his  nature  on 
our  minds.  And  ignorant  people  will  entertain  the 
meaner  thoughts  of  the  holiness  of  God,  when  they 
miss  it  in  those  who  are  called  his  servants.  Certainly, 
it  is  no  small  reproach  which  the  faults  or  miscarriages 
of  ministers  bring  upon  the  ways  of  godliness,  and  upon 
the  holy  religion  which  we  profess.  It  is  no  small 
affront,  that  is  hereby  offered  to  the  blessed  Author  of 
Christianity;  greater,  without  question,  than  all  the 
malice  and  spite  of  his  open  enemies  is  able  to  practise  : 
for,  by  the  negligence  of  ministers,  he  is  crucified  afresh, 
and  put  to  open  shame.  And  ho%v  great  is  the  hazard 
which  our  poor  people  run,  by  our  negligence  or  fail- 
ings 1 Even  as  much  as  the  worth  of  their  souls  amounts 
to.  If  the  watchmen  be  not  faithful,  .and  give  not  timely 
warning,  the  sword  will  speedily  come,  and  the  people 
will  be  taken  away  in  their  sins.'"  ‘ Like  people,  like 
priests,’  will  still  be  a proverb  of  general  truth  : but  if 
the  negligence  and  miscarriage  of  a minister  hazards 
the  souls  of  others,  it  certainly  ruins  his  own ; which 
made  St.  Chrysostom  say,  ‘Equidem,  ex  ecclesiae  min- 
istris,  non  arbitror  multos  servari words  so  terrible, 
that  I tremble  to  put  them  into  English  : and  yet,^  if  a 
man  should  speak  fire,  blood,  and  smoke  ; if  flames 
could  come  out  of  his  mouth,  instead  of  words ; if  he 
had  a voice  like  thunder,  and  an  eye  like  lightning,  he 
could  not  sufficiently*  represent  the  dreadful  account 
that  an  unfaithful*  pastor  shall  make.  Into  what  horror 
and  confusion  shall  it  cast  them,  at  the  last  day,  to  hear 


y ‘ Causa  sunt  ruin®  popuU  sacerdotes  mail  ’ 


let 


DISC.  VI.]  Ot  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION. 

the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God  plead  against  them  ; to 
hear  our  great  Master  say,  ‘ It  was  the  purchase  of  my 
blood  which  ye  did  neglect.  God  died  for  these  souls, 
of  whom  ye  took  so  little  pains  ! Think  not,  therefore, 
to  be  saved  by  that  blood  which  ye  have  despised,  or  to 
escape  the  torments  into  which  multitudes  are  plunged 
through  your  faults  !’  By  this  time,  I hope  it  is  appa- 
rent, that  the  work  of  the  ministry  is  of  great  weight 
and  importance;  that  much  depends  on  the  right  dis- 
charge of  this  holy  office ; and  that  a miscarriage  in  it 
is  the  most  dangerous  thing  in  the  world. 

II.  The  second  thing  of  which  we  had  to  speak,  is, 
the  difficulty  of  managing  this  charge  aright.  And  this 
will  appear,  if  we  consider,  1.  The  end  and  design  of 
the- ministerial  function ; 2.  The  impediments  which 
we  have  to  overcome,  in  the  prosecution  of  that  end  : 
and,  3.  The  several  sorts  of  duties  and  exercises,  in- 
cumbent upon  us. 

1.  As  for  the  first:  the  great  business  of  our  calling 
is,  to  advance  the  divine  life  in  the  world  ; to  make  re- 
ligion sway  and  prevail ; to  frame  and  mould  the  souls 
of  men  into  a conformity  to  God,  and  superinduce  the 
lineaments  of  his  blessed  image  upon  them ; to  enlighten 
their  understandings,  inform  their  judgments,  rectify 
their  wills,  order  their  passions,  and  sanctify  all  their 
affections.  The  world  lieth  in  sin ; and  it  is  our  office  to 
awaken  men  out  of  their  deadly  sleep ; to  rescue  them 
out  of  that  dismal  condition.  We  are  the  instruments 
of  God  for  effectuating  these  great  designs:  and,  though, 
when  we  have  done  what  lies  in  our  power,  we  be  not 
accountable  for  the  success,  yet  nothing  below  complete 
success  should  be  our  aim : and  we  should  never  cease 
our  endeavors,  until  that  gracious  change  be  wrought  in 
every  person  committed  to  our  charge.  Now,  if  any 
think  this  an  easy  work,  let  them  pitch  on  some  person 
of  their  acquaintance,  whom  they  know  to  be  addicted 
to  some  one  particular  vice,  and  try  whether  it  be  easy 
to  reclaim  him.  Persuade  the  drunkard,  tf  you  can,  to 
forsake  his  cups  ; the  covetous  wretch,  to  part  with  his 
money ; reason  but  the  wild  gallant  into  serious  thoughts, 
and  a grave  and  sober  deportment;  try  to  purge  your 
neighborhood  of  gross  crimes  and  scandalous  vices; 
and  persuade  those  that  live  about  you,  to  live  at  least 


168  IMPORTANCE  AND  DlFriCtLTY  [SCOEGAt, 

as  becomes  men.  In  this  undertaking,  you  have  the  ad* 
vantage  of  dealing  with  that  self-love,  which  prevails  in 
them.  You  may  easily  convince  them  that  the  practice 
of  these  virtues  which  you  recommend  would  contribute 
much  to  their  temporal  felicity,  to  those  interests  of 
pleasure,  advantage,  and  honor,  for  which  they  have  the 
greatest  regard ; and  yet  you  shall  find  even  this  task 
not  easy  to  be  performed.  But,  to  raise  men  to  the 
greatest  heights  of  mortification  and  self-denial ; to 
make  them  truly- humble,  meek,  and  resigned  to  the  will 
of  God;  to  overpower  that  selfish  principle,  which  is  so 
deeply  rooted  in  the  constitution  of  our  souls,  and 
which  so  readily  insinuates  itself  into  all  our  affections 
and  designs  ; so  to  place  divine  love  and  universal  cha- 
rity upon  the  throne,  that  the  honor  of  God,  and  the 
welfare  of  their  fellow  creatures,  may  be  as  dear  to  men 
as  their  own  concerns  ; to  have  religion  become  another 
nature  unto  them,  and  they,  as  it  were,  a living  law 
unto  themselves  ; — this,  this  is  so  great  and  wonderful 
a change,  that,  as  Omnipotence  only  is  able  to  produce 
it,  so,  certainly,  they  have  a mighty  task,  who  are  em- 
ployed as  instruments  in  its  production. 

Again ; let  me  appeal  to  the  conscience  and  experi- 
ence of  every  one,  what  difficulty  they  find  in  dealing 
with  their  own  souls,  in  regulating  their  own  passions, 
and  in  mortifying  their  own  corrupt  affections  : yet 
here  we  have  the  advantage  of  a nearer  application;  we 
can  carry  home  our  reasons  with  more  force  upon  our- 
selves, than  upon  others  ; our  thoughts  and  meditations 
must  be  more  clear  and  lively  than  our  words  and  ex- 
pressions are.  If  it  be  hard,  then,  to  persuade  ourselves 
to  be  good,  it  is  surely  much  harder  to  persuade  others 
to  be  so. 

2.  Consider,  in  the  next  place,  the  enemies  whom  we 
must  encounter ; enemies,  that  oppose  the  design  of 
our  employments.  “ We  wrestle  not  against  flesh  and 
blood,  but  against  principalities  and  powers.”  All  the 
forces  of  hell  are  up  in  arms  against  us  ; all  the  powers 
of  darkness  continually  oppose  us  ; and  little  do  we 
know  those  hidden  arts  by  which  these  accursed  spirits 
apply  themselves  to  the  souls  of  men,  to  suggest  and 
insinuate  their  temptations.  The  world,  also,  with  all 
its  cares  and  pleasures,  is  daily  fighting  against  us  ; and 


DISC.  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  169 

there  is  no  estate  or  condition  in  it,  which  is  not  sur- 
rounded with  a thousand  temptations.  The  poor  are 
so  much  taken  up  in  providing  for  the  necessities  of 
this  life,  that  they  can  hardly  be  persuaded  to  think 
upon  another.  The  rich  are  commonly  drowned  in 
sensual  pleasures ; and  our  Saviour  tells  us,  “ It  is 
easier  for  a camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a needle, 
than  for  a rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven.” The  influence  of  sensual  objects  is  very  strong. 
And,  though  the  possessions  of  the  other  world  be  as 
far  beyond  our  enjoyments  here,  as  this  world  is  above 
nothing;  yet,  because  the  things  of  this  world  are  pre-' 
sent,  and  are  ever  and  anon  offering  themselves  unto 
us,  and  bearing  upon  our  senses,  therefore  they  too 
frequently  prevail  against  all  the  persuasions  of  reason, 
and  religion  too.  And  w^hat  shall  we  say  of  the  evil 
company  and  bad  example,  that  inveigle  the  souls  of 
men  ? We,  perhaps,  see  them  once  a week,  and  bring 
them  to  some  degree  of  sobriety,  and  a sound  mind  ; 
but  then  their  wicked  neighbors  and  the  companions  of 
their  sin,  meet  them  every  day,  and  by  their  counsel  and 
example  obliterate  any  good  impression  which  has  been 
made  upon  them : and  thus,  we  lose  more  in  a week, 
than  we  are  able  to  recover  in  a whole  year.  But  the 
greatest  enemies  we  have,  are  those  within  the  souls  of 
men  ; their  depraved  affections,  their  inordinate  desires, 
and  their  corrupt  inclinations.  When  physicians  un- 
dertake the  cure  of  bodily  distempers,  they  have  the 
consent  of  the  party ; he  is  ready  to  comply  with  their 
prescriptions.  But  our  greatest  difficulty  is  in  dealing 
with  the  wills  of  men,  and  making  them  consent  to  be 
cured.  They  hug  the  disease,  and  shun  the  medicine 
as  poison,  and  have  no  desire  to  be  well.  Hence  it  is, 
that  they  do  their  utmost  to  keep  us  strangers  to  their 
souls  ; and  take  as  much  pains  to  conceal  their  inw^ard 
distempers,  as  they  ought  to  do  in  revealing  them.  We 
have  justly  shaken  off  the  tyranny  of  the  Romish  con- 
fession; but,  alas!  our  people  go  too  far  in  the  other 
extreme  ; and,  because  they  are  not  obliged  to  tell  every 
thing  to  their  pastors,  in  effect  they  acquaint  them  with 
nothing.  Perhaps  some  persons,  lying  under  some 
terrors  and  trouble  of  mind,  may  apply  themselves  to 
us,  to  give  vent  to  the  Are  that  burns  within  them  ; but 
15 


170  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [SCOUGALr 

otherwise,  they  content  themselves  to  see  us  in  the  pul- 
pit, and  care  not  how  little  we  be  acquainted  with  their 
temper  and  conduct.  It  will  be  long  ere  any  come  to 
tell  us,  that  they  find  themselves  proud,  or  passionate, 
or  revengeful,  and  inquire  how  they  shall  get  these 
vices  subdued  ; that  they  are  covetous  and  uncharitable, 
and  beseech  us  to  tell  them  how  they  shall  amend  ; to 
acquaint  us  with  their  temptations,  and  to  learn  the 
fittest  methods  to  oppose  them.  We  are  seldom  trou- 
bled with  addresses  of  this  nature ; and  it  is  hard  to  do 
any  thing  toward  a cure,  when  they  will  not  let  us 
know  the  disease. 

3.  The  difficulty  of  the  ministerial  function  will  fur- 
ther appear,  if  we  will  consider  its  several  duties  and 
exercises.  We  shall  but  touch  some  of  them,  at  pre- 
sent, and  may,  perhaps,  have  occasion  to  speak  more 
in  the  application.  % 

Catechizing  is  a necessary  but  painful  office.  It  is 
no  small  toil,  to  tell  the  same  things,  a thousand  times, 
to  dull  and  ignorant  people,  who,  perhaps,  shall  know 
but  little  when  we  have  done.  It  is  this  laborious  exer- 
cise, that  sometimes  tempts  a minister  to  envy  the  con- 
dition of  those  who  gain  their  living  by  the  sweat  of 
their  brows,  without  the  toil  and  distraction  of  their 
spirits. 

Preaching  is  an  exercise  of  which  many  are  ambi- 
tious ; none  more  than  those  who  are  least  qualified. 
And,  it  is  probable,  that  the  desire  of  this  liberty  is  no 
small  temptation  to  some  of  our  giddy  people,  to  go 
over  to  that  sect  and  party,  where  all  ranks,  and  both 
sexes  are  allowed  the  satisfaction  to  hear  themselves 
talk  in  public.  But  it  is  not  so  easy  a matter,  to  per- 
form this  task  aright ; to  stand  in  the  presence  of  God, 
and  to  speak  to  his  people  in  his  name,  with  that  plain- 
ness and  simplicity,  that  seriousness  and  gravity,  that 
zeal  and  concern,  which  the  business  requires  ; to  ac- 
commodate ourselves  to  the  capacity  of  the  common 
people,  without  disgusting  our  more  knowing  hearers 
by  the  insipid  flatness  of  our  discourse  ; to  excite  and 
awaken  drowsy  souls,  without  terrifying  and  disturbing 
more  tender  consciences:  to  bear  home  the  convictions 
of  sin,  without  the  appearance  of  any  personal  reflec- 
tion ; in  a word,  to  approve  ourselves  unto  God,  as 


i:)ISC.  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  171 

workmen  that  need  not  be  ashamed,  rightly  dividing 
the  word  of  truth.” ^ 

Discipline  is  an  edged  tool ; and  they  had  needs  be 
no  fools  that  meddle  with  it.  It  is  a hard  thing  to  ma- 
nage the  processes  of  the  censures  of  the  Church,  with 
such  care  and  prudence,  that  we  may  neither  encourage 
flagitious  persons  by  our  remissness  ; nor  irritate 
others  by  needless  severity  ; nor  give  advantage  to 
captious  and  troublesome  men,  for  want  of  some  legal 
formality. 

But  certainly,  the  greatest  and  most  difflcult  work  of 
a minister  is,  to  apply  himself  particularly,  to  the  seve- 
ral persons  under  his  charge : to  acquaint  himself  with 
their  behavior,  and  the  temper  of  their  souls  ; to  re- 
dress what  is  amiss,  and  to  prevent  their  future  miscar- 
riages. Without  this  private  work,  his  other  endeavors 
dvill  do  little  good.  And,  considering  the  great  variety 
that  is  among  the  humors  and  dispositions  of  men, 
equal,  almost,  to  that  of  their  faces,  this  must  needs  be 
an  infinite  labor.  ‘ It  is  the  art  of  arts,  and  the  most 
difficult  of  all  sciences,  to  govern  such  a manifold  and 
various  creature  as  man.’^  And  another  Gregory  has 
written  a whole  tractate,  ‘ Of  the  diversity  there  is 
amongst  men’s  tempers,  and  the  several  ways  of  deal- 
ing with  them.’  What  a martyrdom  is  it,  for  some 
modest  and  bashful  tempers,  when  they  find  themselves 
obliged  to  use  freedom  and  severity  in  reproving  the 
faults  of  those  who,  in  quality  or  age,  are  above  them- 
selves ! And,  what  a hard  matter  it  is  to  deal  with 
people  that  are  ready  to  leave  the  world,  and  enter 
upon  eternity;  when  their  souls,  as  it  were,  hang  on 
their  lips,  arid  they  have  one  foot,  as  we  use  to  say, 
already  in  the  grave  ! The  minister  is  seldom  sent  for, 
till  the  physician  has  given  the  patient  over : and  then 
they  beg  of  him  to  dress  their  souls  for  heaven,  when 
their  winding-sheet  is  preparing,  and  their  friends  are 
almost  ready  to  dress  the  body  for  the  funeral.  Now, 
though  some  of  these  have  lived  well,  and,  like  the 
wise  virgins,  have  oil  in  their  lamps  ; yet,  it  is  a great 
matter  to  calm  them,  and  to  dispose  their  souls  for  that 
great  change  which  they  are  presently  to  undergo.  But, 
alas ! it  fares  otherwise  with  the  greater  part.  They 


w 2 Tim.  ii.  15. 


^Gregor.  Naz.  Orat.  Apologet, 


172  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [sCOUGALf 

are  yet  strangers  to  the  ways  of  religion  ; the  work  of 
their  salvation  is  yet  to  begin  ; their  passions  to  be 
mortified,  their  corruptions  subdued,  the  whole  frame 
of  their  souls  to  be  changed  : and,  though  they  have 
scarce  so  much  strength  as  to  turn  them  on  their  beds, 
yet  their  warfare  against  principalities,  powers,  and 
spiritual  wickedness,  is  but  newly  commenced  ; their 
work  is  great,  their  disadvantages  many,  and  the  time 
very  short  that  is  before  them.  Perhaps  they  are  dull 
and  insensible,  and  we  shall  hardly  persuade  them  of 
their  danger.  They  will  acknowledge  ‘ they  are  sin- 
ners, and  so  are  all  others  as  well  as  they  ; they  trust 
to  the  mercies  of  Christ,  and  have  confidence  enough 
of  their  salvation  ; and  cannot  be  persuaded  they  want 
any  thing  that  is  necessary  for  its  security.’  Others, 
again,  are  seized  with  fear,  and  call  for  the  minister 
to  comfort  them.  What  shall  he  do?-  Shall  he  tell 
them  that  all  their  terrors  are  just,  and  it  is  now  too 
late  to  repent  ? I know  some  divines  are  peremptory 
in  this  case,  and  think  they  should  be  left  in  despair ; 
but,  surely,  it  were  sad  employment  for  a minister  to 
visit  a dying  man  only  in  order  to  tell  him  that  he  is 
damned ; and,  withal,  it  is  too  great  boldness  in  us,  to 
limit  the  grace  and  mercy  of  God.  True  and  sincere 
repentance  will  never  come  too  late ; but,  certainly,  a 
death-bed  repentance  is  seldom  sincere  ; and  it  is  hard, 
either  for  the  minister,  or  for  the  man  himself,  to  tell 
whether  it  be  only  the  fear  of  hell,  or  a true  and  godly 
sorrow,  that  he  feels  within  his  soul.  All  that  a mi- 
nister can  do,  is,  to  press  him  to  all  possible  seriousness, 
and  to  resign  himself  to  God  for  the  event ; or  to  lay 
before  him,  in  general,  the  terms  and  conditions  of  the 
Gospel  covenant : the  application  will  be  hard  and  un- 
certain. 

These,  and  many  more,  are  the  difficulties  of  the 
ministerial  function.  It  was  not  without  a great  deal 
of  reason,  that  one  of  the  fathers  called  it,  ‘ A weight 
under  which  the  shoulders  of  an  angel  might  shrink. 
Hence  it  was,  that  the  holy  men  of  old  have  been  so 
mightily  afraid  to  undertake  it.  Jeremiah,  who  was 
sanctified  from  the  womb,  and  ordained  a prophet  to 

7 ‘ Onus  angelicis  humcris  formidandum.* 


DISC.  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  173 

the  nations,  when  he  received  his  commission,  cried 
out,  “ Ah  ! Lord  God,  behold,  I cannot  speak,  for  I 
am  a child.”  Ezekiel,  though  strengthened  and  con- 
firmed by  God,  yet  went  unwillingly  ; yea,  “ in  the  bit- 
terness and  indignation  of  his  spirit.”  And,  in  the 
ancient  Church,  the  more  eminent  and  remarkable  per- 
sons were,  in  piety  and  worth,  the  more  sensible  they 
were  of  the  greatness  of  this  charge,  and  the  more  un- 
willing to  engage  in  it.  Some  of  them  have  fled  into 
the  mountains  and  deserts,  or  hid  themselves  in  the  dens 
and  caverns  of  the  earth  ; and  were  more  afraid  to  be  laid 
hands  on  by  the  bishop,  than  by  the  most  bloody  perse- 
cutors. Three  times  did  Saint  Ambrose  flee  from  Mi- 
lan ; and  it  is  reported,  that  after  he  had  travelled  hard 
all  night,  he  found  himself,  next  morning,  at  the  outer 
gate  of  that  city,  which  he  endeavored  to  avoid.  Saint 
Gregory  Nazianzen,  being  taken  in  his  flight,  and  ordain- 
ed by  force,  composed  that  excellent  oration,  which  is  at 
the  beginning  of  his  works  ; in  which  he  so  well  ex- 
presses the  greatness  and  the  danger  of  the  ministry, 
that  the  reading  of  it,  and  I wish  it  were  frequently  and 
attentively  read,  might,  I think,  do  much  to  quell  the  con- 
fidence of  the  most  confident  intruders.  Saint  Augustine 
entered  by  chance  into  the  church  of  Hippo,  just  as  the 
bishop  Valerius  was  speaking  to  the  people  concerning 
the  choice  of  a minister,  of  whom  they  stood  in  great 
need.  He  was  presently  pitched  upon,  and  ordained 
almost  by  force,  after  he  had,  with  tears,  deprecated  the 
charge,  and  in  these  remarkable  terms  : ‘ What,  do  you 
wish  that  I should  perish  ?’*  intimating  the  hazard  he 
should  thereby  run.  And  Saint  Chrysostom  professes 
of  himself,  that  when  he  was  chosen  to  a bishopric,  his 
soul  and  body  were  almost  parted  asunder,  so  great  was 
the  grief  and  fear  that  seized  upon  his  spirits;  and  that 
he  many  times  wondered,  how  he  had  ever  entered  into 
the  minds  of  those  who  chose  him,  or  of  what  great  of- 
fence that  Church  had  been  guilty,  which  had  provoked 
God  to  suffer  it  to  be  committed  to  such  an  unworthy 
person.  So  sensible  were  these  excellent  men  of  the 
difficulties  of  this  holy  function,  even  in  those  first  and 
golden  ages  of  the  Church.  And,  certainly,  they  are 


* ‘ Quid  ! vultis  ut  peream  V 

15^ 


174  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [SCOUOAL,, 

much  augmented  to  us,  who  live  in  these  dregs  of  time, 
when  religion  is  almost  banished  out  of  the  world ; its 
principles  called  in  question,  by  many  pretenders  to 
judgment  and  wit ; and  its  practice  not  only  neglected, 
but  derided : insomuch,  that  men  are  frighted  from  god- 
liness by  the  contempt  that  lies  upon  it.^  We  have  a 
world  of  wickedness  to  fight  against ; and  “ Who  is  suf- 
ficient for  these  things 

Thus,  having  prosecuted  the  import  of  the  text,  it  is 
time  to  make  some  application  of  it.  And,  first,  I shall 
address  myself  to  those  of  the  laity  who  vouchsafe  us 
their  presence ; that  they  may  not  think  their  time  mis- 
spent, in  some  hours  of  attendance. 

You  see  what  a weighty  and  difficult  charge  they  have, 
to  whom  your  souls  are  committed.  Whence  is  it,  then, 
that  some  of  you  account  the  ministerial  function  the 
most  useless  employment  in  the  commonwealth,  and 
that  which  might  be  most  easily  spared  ? And  think 
that  ministers  have  easy  lives,  gaining  their  living  by 
the  breath  of  their  mouths,  as  some  of  you  are  pleased 
to  word  it  ? Whence  is  it,  that  this  holy  calling  comes 
to  be  so  much  despised,  and  that  the  names  of  minister, 
parson,  or  priest,  are  become  words  of  ignominy  and 
contempt?  And,  whatever  advantages  of  birth  and  edu- 
cation a minister  may  have,  yet  his  employment  is 
thought  enough  to  degrade  him,  and  put  him  below  every 
one  that  can  pretend  to  the  name  of  a gentleman. 

Again,  how  comes  it,  that  those  small  gleanings  of  the 
Church’s  patrimony,  which  sacrilege  and  oppression  have 
deft  us,  should  yet  be  envied,  and  looked  upon  with  an 
evil  eye ; and  that  a clergyman,  who  has  spent  his  time, 
and  much  of  his  fortune,  in  the  schools  of  the  prophets, 
to  fit  himself  for  that  employment  in  which  he  may  be 
most  beneficial  to  mankind,  should  yet  be  maligned  for 
a small  annuity  during  life,  which,  perhaps,  amounts  not 
to  the  gains  of  the  meanest  tradesman  ? And  yet,  if 
those  persons  had  chosen  another  employment,  if  they 
had  taken  Galen  or  Justinian  for  their  masters,  perhaps 
they  would  have  had  parts  and  abilities  sufficient  to  have 
advanced  themselves,  as  well  as  others,  to  wealth  and 
honors;  and  would  not  have  been  envied  for  it.  My 


‘ ‘ Mali  esse  coguntur,  ne  ridiculi  fiant.’ 


DISC.  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  175 

beloved,  I account  him  not  worthy  of  the  name  of  a 
minister  of  Christ,  who  cannot  patiently  suffer  injury, 
contempt,  and  envy.  But,  certainly,  it  is  no  good  part 
in  the  people,  to  put  these  upon  them  : it  is  a shrewd 
token,  that  they  have  a small  regard  to  piety  and  reli- 
gion ; and  that  their  own  souls  are  the  things  about  them 
for  which  they  have  the  least  concern.  Learn,  I beseech 
you,  dear  Christians,  learn  to  take  more  rational  mea- 
sures of  things.  Think  how  much  you  are  indebted  to 
the  divine  goodness,  which  has  taken  so  great  care  of 
your  everlasting  happiness,  as  to  set  apart  an  order  of 
men  whose  business  it  shall  be  to  promote  and  advance 
it.  Do  all  that  you  can  to  encourage  and  assist  them  in 
their  work ; give  them  the  encouragement  of  your  con- 
stant attendance,  and  assist  them,  by  helping  to  instruct 
those  children  and  servants  who  are  under  your  several 
charges.  Apply  yourselves  frequently  to  them  for  ad- 
vice and  direction,  and  be  often  putting  up  that  import- 
ant question,  “ What  shall  we  do  to  be  saved  V’  Yield 
them  that  submission  and  obedience,  which  is  due  unto 
them  in  the  Lord.  Go  not  to  church  to  sit  as  judges 
and  censure  the  sermon  when  you  return.  If  you  be 
not  pleased  with  it,  your  ignorance  or  indisposition  may 
be  the  cause,  and  modesty  should  oblige  you  to  silence. 
If  you  be  taken  with  what  you  have  heard,  spend  not 
your  time  in  talk  about  it ; practice  is  the  best  way  to 
commend  it.  Beware  of  that  spiritual  pride  and  con- 
ceitedness, which  makes  “ the  people  to  strive  with 
their  priests  which  the  prophet  Hosea  notes  as  an 
heinous  sin.  Finally,  to  sum  up  your  duty  in  the  apos- 
tle’s words  : “ Obey  them  that  have  the  rule  over  you, 
and  submit  yourselves  : for  they  watch  for  your  souls, 
as  they  that  must  give  account : that  they  may  do  it  with 
joy,  and  not  with  grief : for  that  is  unprofitable  foryou.”*^ 
I might,  in  the  next  place,  take  an  occasion  from  what 
has  been  said,  to  press  the  great  obligation  that  lies  on 
patrons  of  churches,  to  seek  out  and  to  make  choice  of 
those  whom  they  judge  to  be  best  qualified,  for  so  high 
and  weighty  a charge;  and  might  show,  that  it  is  no 
small  guilt  that  he  draws  upon  himself,  who  presents  a 
person  to  the  care  of  souls,  of  whose  prudence  and  fide- 


^ Hosea  iv.  4. 


® Hebrews  xiii.  17. 


176  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [SCOUGAL* 

lity,  it  may  be,  he  hath  so  little  confidence,  that  he  dare 
not  intrust  him  with  the  management  of  his  fortune,  or 
the  tuition  of  his  child;  while,  perhaps,  others  are  over- 
looked, who*  might  be  capable  of  doing  much  more  ser- 
vice in  the  Church,  merely  because  they  have  not  the 
good  fortune  to  be  related  or  recommended  to  the  pa- 
tron, or  because  they  have  less  money  or  more  con- 
science, than  to  bargain  for  the  living.  But  I forbear 
this  : and  shall  crave  liberty  of  this  venerable  auditory, 
to  take  this  occasion  of  doing  something  that  relates  to 
my  peculiar  functions,^  in  speaking  a little  to  those  sons 
of  the  prophets,  those  candidates  for  holy  orders,  whose 
diligence  and  study  aim  at  the  ministry,  and  who  are  to 
be  employed  in  the  vineyard  of  God  when  the  present 
laborers  shall  be  called  off  to  receive  their  reward. 

You  see,  sirs,  what  a dreadful  and  important  charge 
it  is  to  which  you  aspire.  Consider,  I beseech  you, 
what  great  pains  are  necessary,  to  fit  and  qualify  you 
for  it.  Ordinary  callings  are  not  learned,  without  a 
long  apprenticeship  ; and  will  the  art  of  governing  souls 
be  learned  on  a sudden  ? It  is  not  a knowledge  of  con- 
troversy, or  the  gift  of  eloquence,  much  less  a strong 
voice  and  bold  confidence,  that  will  qualify  you  for  it. 
The  errors  that  abound  among  us,  make  it  necessary, 
indeed,  that  you  should  know  how  to  deal  with  the  ad- 
versaries ; for  the  clergy  are  many  times  put  to  the  pass 
the  Jews  were,  at  the  building  of  the  second  temple  : 
“ wdth  one  hand  they  must  build  the  house  of  God,  and 
with  the  other  they  must  hold  a weapon  :’'®  yet,  certain- 
ly, your  greatest  work  lies  within,  in  purifying  your 
minds,  and  learning  that  wisdom  which  is  necessary  for 
souls.  Begin,  then,  I pray  you,  and  preach  to  your  pas- 
sions, and  try  what  good  you  can  do  to  your  friends  and 
neighbors.  Study  that  gravity  and  seriousness,  that  hu- 
mility and  self-denial,  that  purity  and  mortification, 
which  become  those  who  may  one  day  stand  in  so  near 
a relation  to  God,  and  bear  so  eminent  a charge  in  his 
Church.  Be  not  too  hasty  and  forward  in  rushing  into 
public  ; it  is  better  you  be  drawn  than  run.  Nazianzen 
complains  of  some  in  his  time,  who,  with  profane  hearts 


d Divinity  Professor,  in  King’s  College,  Aberdeen. 
« Nehemiah  iv.  17. 


DISC.  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  177 

and  unwashed  hands,  rushed  into  the  holy  function  ; and 
before  they  were  fit  to  receive  the  sacrament,  would 
take  upon  them  to  celebrate  it ; and  though  they  be  not 
come  unto  the  age  of  men,  if  they  have  Learned  some 
pious  words,  think  themselves  fit  to  be  overseers  of 
others  : O prcEfectururri ! O elatum  animum ! Sacer 
etiam  a cunahulis  Samuel!  Sapieutes  et  magistri  su- 
mus ! This,  I say,  was  the  humor  of  some  in  his  days; 
and  I am  afraid  the  case  is  not  much  better  in  ours. — 
But  if  you  be  truly  sensible  of  what  you  are  to  under- 
take, you  would  think  no  time  too  much,  to  be  spent  in 
preparation  for  it. 

It  remains,  yet,  that  I address  myself  briefly  to  you, 
my  Reverend  brethren,  and  Right  Reverend  fathers. 
We  have  been  endeavoring  to  lay  before  you  the  im- 
portance and  difficulty  of  your  employment ; and  you 
know  them  much  better  than  we  can  tell  you.  But  these 
things  ought  not  to  discourage  you,  or  make  you  faint 
under  the  weight,  but  rather  to  animate  and  excite  your 
care.  As  Alexander  said  once  of  an  eminent  hazard  he 
had  encountered,  ‘that  now  he  had  met  with  a danger 
worthy  his  courage so  may  I say  of  your  office,  that 
it  is  a business  worthy  of  your  zeal,  and  of  the  love  and 
affection  which  you  owe  unto  your  blessed  Master.  And, 
indeed,  you  can  give  no  greater  testimony  of  it,  than  by 
a faithful  and  conscientious  discharge  of  the  duties  of 
your  calling.  If  your  work  is  great,  your  reward  is  in- 
finitely greater  ; and  you  have  Omnipotence  engaged  in 
your  assistance.  Up  and  be  doing,  and  the  Lord  shall 
be  with  you  : only  let  us  be  careful  to  maintain  such  a 
deep  and  constant  sense  of  the  engagements  under 
which  we  lie,  as  may  awaken  us  unto  the  greatest  dili- 
gence and  watchfulness,  both  over  ourselves  and  others. 

As  for  the  particulars  of  your  duty,  I dare  not  take 
upon  me  to  be  an  instructer,  who  have  much  more  need 
to  learn  my  own.  Yet,  since  I am  not  placed  here  to  be 
altogether  silent,  I shall  offer  to  you  the  apostle’s  exhorta- 
tion to  Titus,  and  take  the  liberty  to  insist  a little  upon 
the  particulars  of  it : “These  things  speak,  and  exhort, 
and  rebuke  with-all  authority.  Let  no  man  despise  thee.” 
These  things  speak : Here  he  points  at  that,  which 
ought  to  be  the  matter  of  our  doctrine  and  instruction. 
We  are  not  to  entertain  our  people  with  subtile  specu- 


178  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [SCOUGAL* 

lations,  metaphysical  niceties,  perplexed  notions,  and 
foolish  questions,  which  engender  strife ; but  let  us 
speak  the  things  which  become  sound  doctrine.  Let  ns 
frequently  inculcate  the  great  and  uncontroverted  truths 
of  our  religion,  and  trouble  our  people  no  further  with 
controversy,  than  necessity  requires.  Let  us  study  to 
acquaint  them  with  the  tenor  of  the  Gospel  covenant, 
and  what  they  must  do  to  be  saved  ; to  inform  them  of 
the  particular  duties  which  they  owe,  both  to  God  and 
man  : for  the  apostle  had  before  been  speaking  of  the 
duties  to  be  recommended  to  every  one,  according  to 
their  several  capacities  and  relations.  And,  indeed,  it 
were  not  amiss,  that  in  catechizing,  ministers  would 
bring  home  the  articles  of  faith,  by  practical  improve- 
ments ; both  teaching  men  their  particular  duties,  and 
pressing  them  to  the  performance.  But  it  is  not  enough 
to  speak  these  things  ; to  tell  men  what  is  incumbent 
upon  them  : we  must,  besides,  endeavor  to  excite  them 
by  the  most  powerful  and  effectual  persuasions  ; the 
judgment  being  informed,  we  must  do  all  to  influence 
the  affections  : and  this  is  the  proper  use  of  our  preach- 
ing ; which,  though  it  be  overvalued  by  those  who  place 
all  religion  in  hearing,  yet,  certainly,  it  is  of  excellent 
use,  and  ought  to  be  managed  with  a great  deal  of  care. 
Let  the  matter  be  weighty  and  grave,  the  method  plain 
and  clear,  the  expression  neither  soaring  on  the  one 
hand,  nor  too  familiar  on  the  other.^  Some  good  men 
are  not  aware,  what  contempt  they  draw  on  religion,  by 
their  coarse  and  homely  allusions,  and  by  the  silly  and 
trivial  proverbs  of  which  they  make  use.  Nor  should 
our  expressions  be  too  soft  or  effeminate,  nor  our  pro- 
nunciation affected  or  childish.  Religion  is  a rational 
and  manly  thing  ; and  we  should  strive  to  recommend  it 
with  the  greatest  advantage.  But,  above  all,  let  us  study 
such  a zeal  and  fervor,  as  flowing  from  a deep  sense  of 
the  things  we  speak,  and  being  regulated  with  prudence 
and  decency,  may  be  fittest  to  reach  the  hearts  of  the 
hearers.  The  vulgar,  that  usually  sit  under  the  pulpit, 
as  the  excellent  Herbert  speaks,  are  commonly  as  hard 
and  dead  as  the  seats  they  sit  on,  and  need  a mountain 

f ‘ Oratio^sit  pura,  simplex,  dilucida,  ct  manifesta  ; plena  gravitatis  et 
ponderis  ; non  afiectata  elegantia ; sed  non  intermissa  gratia.’ — S. 
Ambr,  de  Off.  i.  22. — Ed, 


DISC.  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  179 

of  fire  to  kindle  them.  The  best  way  is  to  preach  the 
things  first  to  ourselves,  and  then  frequently  to  recollect 
in  whose  presence  we  are,  and  whose  business  we  are 
doing.  And  I think  it  no  small  advantage,  that  some 
of  a neighboring  nation  have,  who  make  some  consider- 
able pause  when  they  have  done  with  a point,  that  they 
may  raise  their  souls  toward  God,  and  that  the  people 
may  renew  their  attention. 

But,  when  we  have  done  all  that  we  can  by  public  and 
general  exhortation,  we  shall  effectuate  very  little,  with- 
out a more  particular  application  to  the  persons  under 
our  charge.  Interest  and  self-love  will  blind  the  eyes, 
and  stop  the  ears,  of  men  ; and  make  them  shift  off 
from  themselves,  those  admonitions  from  the  pulpit 
which  are  displeasing.  And,  therefore,  we  are  com- 
manded not  only  to  teach  and  exhort,  but  also  to  rebuke 
with  all  authority.  Now,  those  whom  we  are  to  rebuke, 
are,  in  the  first  place,  persons  of  a different  persuasion, 
who  dissent  from  our  religion,  or  withdraw  from  our 
ordinances;  and  these  must  be  dealt  with  very  patiently, 
and  with  much  long  suffering.  It  is  not  to  be  expected, 
that  a hasty  conference,  or  an  abrupt  disputation,  should 
prevail  with  those  who  have  been  long  habituated  to 
false  persuasions,  and,  perhaps  have  drunk  them  in  with 
the  first  of  their  serious  thoughts,  and  religious  inclina- 
tions. We  must  first  study  to  combat  the  perverseness 
of  their  will,  the  prejudices  of  the  world,  the  desire  of 
victory  and  applause,  their  pre-engagement  in  a party, 
and  their  shame  and  unwillingness  to  yield  ; and  strive 
to  render  them  meek  and  pliable,  and  sincerely  desirous 
to  know  the  truth.  When  we  have  obtained  this,  they 
will  be  both  more  easily  convinced,  and  more  inexcusa- 
ble, if,  through  weakness,  they  still  continue  in  their 
errors.  But  let  us  never  rest  in  having  drawn  over  a 
person,  to  our  party,  till  we  have  engaged  him  to  seri- 
ousness in  the  practice  of  religion;  for  if  he  continue 
a stranger  to  that,  it  is  little  matter  whether  he  be  Pro- 
testant or  Papist,  Pagan  or  Mahomedan,  or  any  thing 
else  in  the  world : nay,  the  better  his  religion  is,  the 
more  dreadful  will  his  condemnation  be.  It  was  an  ex- 
cellent saying  of  an  eminent  and  holy  person,  yet  alive, 
in  our  Church,  ‘ That  he  would  rather  be  instrumental 
in  persuading  one  man  to  be  serious  in  religion,  than  the 


180  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  [SCOUGAL. 

whole  nation  to  be  conformists.’  Another  class,  whom 
we  have  to  rebuke,  are,  in  the  next  place,  those  of  our 
own  religion,  for  the  vices  and  failings  of  their  lives. 
And  this  must  be  done  with  a great  deal  of  courage  and 
zeal ; of  prudence  and  discretion  ; of  meekness  and 
love.  More  knowing  and  ingenious  persons  may  be 
dealt  with,  sometimes,  by  secret  insinuations,  and  ob- 
lique refle^ctions,  on  the  vices  of  which  they  are  guilty; 
and  we  may  sometimes  seek  a way  to  reprove  their  fail- 
ings, by  regretting  and  condemning  our  own.  But  that 
artifice  is  not  necessary  with  the  less  educated  : having 
professed  our  love  and  good  intentions,  it  will  be  best 
to  come  directly  to  the  point.  Now,  this  supposes  a 
great  deal  of  care,  to  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  hu- 
mors and  conversation  of  our  people  ; and  the  name  of 
watchmen,  that  is  given  us,  implies  no  less.  And,  though 
the  lamentable  vastness  of  some  of  our  charges  make  it 
impossible  to  do  all  that  we  could  wish,  yet  must  we  not 
fail  to  do  all  that  we  can.  It  is  an  excellent  practice  of 
some  ministers  whom  I have  the  happiness  of  knowing; 
that  seldom  miss  any  day  wherein  they  do  not  apply 
themselves  to  some  or  other  of  their  people,  and  treat 
about  the  affairs  of  their  souls. 

Another  thing  which  may  be  implied  in  rebuking 
with  all  authority,  is  the  conscientious  exercise  of  that 
authority  which  Christ  has  delegated,  in  the  public  cen- 
sures and  rebukes  of  the  Church.  But  of  this  I shall 
say  no  more,  save  only,  that  it  were  an  intolerable  pre- 
sumption, and  horrid  sacrilege,  to  make  use  of  these  to 
serve  the  ends  of  our  passion  and  private  revenge. 

The  last  clause  of  the  passage  we  cited,  sounds  some- 
what strange  : “ Let  no  man  despise  thee.”  Surely  no- 
body desires  to  be  despised  ; and  it  is  not  always  in.  the 
power  of  man  to  hinder  it.  But  the  meaning  of  the 
words  is,  that  there  should  be  nothing  in  our  carriage 
and  deportment  which  may  deserve  contempt.  We 
ought  still  to  have  that  apology  of  the  orator  in  readi- 
ness; ‘Quid  putem  ? contemptumne  me?  Equidem, 
non  video  quid  sit,  in  vita,  moribusque  nostris,  quod  de- 
spici  possit.’^  There  is  nothing  that  exposes  a minister  to 


^ [What  shall  I think  ? that  I am  despised  7 Truly,  I see  not  what 
there  is  in  my  life  and  deportment  that  merits  contempt.] 


Disc.  VI.]  OF  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  181 

SO  much  contempt,  as  a vicious  and  irreligious  deport- 
ment. Even  those  who  are  profane  themselves,  and  who 
love  vice  in  their  other  companions,  yet  abhor  it  in  a 
clergyman  ; as  thinking  it  too  gross  and  disingenuous, 
to  practise  all  the  week  what  he  has  been  condemning 
on  Sunday.  I shall  not  insist  upon  the  grosser  sort  of 
vices.  Nolo  tarn  male  ominari  de  ecclesia ; I would 
not  bode  so  much  evil  to  the  Church,  as  to  imagine  the 
clergy  capable  of  them.  I shall  point  but  to  a few  things, 
which,  though  less  heinous  in  their  nature,  tend  to  the 
contempt  and  disrespect  of  the  clergy. 

And,  first,  the  least  imputation  of  covetousness  does 
a great  deal  of  mischief  this  way.  And  you  know  that 
will  be  reckoned  covetousness  in  you,  which  is  not  so 
in  others.  You  will  be  more  blamed  for  taking  your 
own,  than  they  for  encroaching  on  their  neighbor’s.  And 
therefore,  to  prevent  this  imputation,  so  far  as  the 
meanness  of  a minister’s  provision,  and  necessity  of  his 
family,  will  permit,  he  should  show  himself  frank  and 
liberal  in  his  dealings,  especially  in  the  poorer  sort. 

Another  occasion  of  contempt  is,  the  too  much  fre- 
quenting the  company  of  the  laity,  and  a vain  and  trifling 
conversation  among  them.  It  was  a wise  saying,  who- 
ever he  was  that  spoke  it,  ‘ Quotidiana  clericorum  cum 
laicis  conversatio,  contemptibiles,  ipsos  reddit.’  And 
that  of  Hierom  to  Nepotian  is  very  observable  : ‘ Facile 
contemnitur  clericus,  si  ad  prandium  invitatus  saepius 
veniat.’  A minister,  in  his  conversation,  ought  carefully 
to  avoid  all  foolish  and  excessive  jesting,  and  immode- 
rate mirth.  I could  never  think  it  a good  character  of 
a clergyman,  to  call  him  a merry  fellow,  or  a notable 
droll ; and  yet  I do  not  condemn  all  cheerfulness  and 
freedom,  nor  the  innocent  exercise  of  wit ; but  it  is  one 
thing  to  make  use  of  these  now  and  then,  when  they 
come  in  our  way,  and  another  to  search  and  hunt  after 
them ; and  those  who  have  the  knack  of  it,  are  ready 
enough  to  fall  into  excess. 

A third  thing  which  will  bring  a clergyman  into  con- 
tempt, is  an  unallowable  patience  in  hearing  his  Master 
dishonored,  by  the  oaths  and  profane  talk  of  those  of 
whom  he  stands  in  awe.  My  brethren,  if  we  had  no 
more  but  the  common  principles  of  ingenuousness  and 
honor,  they  might  make  us  resent  these,  as  greater 


182  THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  [SCOUGAL. 

affronts  than  if  men  should  spit  in  our  faces ; and  yet 
this  is  but  one  of  the  meanest  engagements  that  lie  upon 
us,  to  check  these  exorbitances  with  the  greatest  severity. 

I shall  name  but  another,  and  it  is  this : when  men, 
on  purpose  to  avoid  this  contempt,  would  seem  to  dis- 
claim their  employment,  by  imitating  the  habit  and 
deportment  of  secular  persons ; when  they  study  the 
gentleman  so  much,  that  they  forget  the  clergyman.  If 
we  be  ashamed  of  our  own  employment,  no  wonder  if 
others  despise  it.  Far  different  were  the  thoughts  of 
that  worthy  gentleman  and  excellent  minister,  whom  I 
named  before,  that  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  Mr.  Herbert, 
who,  the  same  night  that  he  was  admitted  into  the  office 
of  the  ministry,  said  to  his  friend,  ‘ I now  look  back  on 
my  aspiring  thoughts,  and  I think  myself  more  happy 
than  if  I had  obtained  what  I so  ambitiously  thirsted 
for.  And  I can  now  behold  the  court  with  an  impar- 
tial eye,  and  see  plainly  that  it  is  made  up  of  fraud,  and 
titles,  and  flattery,  and  many  such  other  imaginary 
painted  pleasures.  My  greatest  ambition,  from  hence- 
forth, shall  be,  that  I bring  glory  to  my  Jesus,  whom  I 
have  this  day  taken  to  be  my  master  and  governor;  and 
I am  so  proud  of  his  service,  that  I will  always  observe 
and  obey,  and  do  his  will,  and  always  call  him  Jesus, 
my  master.  I will  always  contemn  my  birth,  and  any 
title  or  dignity  that  can  be  conferred  upon  me,  when  I 
shall  compare  them  with  the  title  of  being  a Priest,  and 
serving  at  the  altar  of  Jesus,  my  master. 

I am  afraid  I have  encroached  too  far  on  your  patience. 
I shall  close  all,  with  a serious  obtestation  of  our  great 
apostle  to  Timothy,  which,  you  may  believe,  I durst 
not  utter  in  my  own  name,  but  in  the  name  of  the  great 
Master  of  us  all : “ I charge  thee  before  God,  and  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  shall  judge  the  quick  and 
the  dead  at  his  appearing,  and  his  kingdom  : preach  the 
word,  be  instant  in  season,  and  out  of  season ; reprove, 
rebuke,  exhort,  with  all  long-suffering  and  doctrine.” 
And  the  Lord,  of  his  mercy,  so  assist  and  prosper  us 
all  in  his  own  work,  that  we  may  be  the  happy  instru- 
ments of  advancing  his  kingdom,  and  the  welfare  of 
souls,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

h IzAAC  Walton^s  Life  0/ George  Herbert.* *— Ed. 

* [This,  with  the  lives  of  other  worthies,  by  the  same  faithful  pen, 
will  shortly  appear  in  the  Parish  Lihrary.\ 


DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS: 


COLLECTION  OP  THOUGHTS 

UPON 

RELIGIOUS  AND  PHILOSOPHICAL  SUBJECTS. 


BY  THE  HON.  CHARLES  HOW, 


' Sir,  I pray,  give  my  brother  Farrer  an  account  of  the  decaying  con- 
dition of  my  body,  and  tell  him,  I beg  him  to  continue  his  daily  prayers 
for  me  : and  let  him  know,  that  I have  considered  that  God  only  is 
what  he  would  be  ; and  that  I am,  by  his  grace,  become  now  so  like 
him,  as  to  be  pleased  with  what  pleaseth  him  ; and  tell  him,  that  I do 
not  repine,  but  am  pleased  with  my  want  of  health  ; and  tell  him,  my 
heart  is  fixed  on  that  place,  where  true  joy  is  only  to  be  found : and  that 
I long  to  be  there,  and  do  wait  for  my  appointed  change,  with  hope  and 
patience.’ — George  Herbert. 


HOW’S  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 


I.  I HERE  purpose,  by  the  grace  of  my  good  God, 
which  I most  humbly  beg  that  he  will  be  pleased  always 
plentifully  to  afford  me,  to  write  down  some  meditation 
or  reflection,  as  often  as  I can  conveniently,  from  this 
time  forward.  And  that  for  these  two  reasons  : first,  to 
oblige  myself  frequently  to  enter  into  serious  contem- 
plation of  the  great  God,  and  of  the  most  proper  means 
to  render  myself  acceptable  to  him : and  next,  that  by 
help  of  these  meditations  and  reflections  I may  be  able 
to  make  a judgment  of  the  state  and  condition  of  my 
mind  for  the  time  past,  and  to  compare  it  with  that  of 
the  present,  in  order  to  make  my  life  as  uniform  as  is 
possible  in  all  virtue  : for  all  which  purposes,  I most 
humbly  beg  the  assistance  of  my  gracious  God. 

II.  There  is  one  picture  which  a man  should  be  draw- 
ing all  the  days  of  his  life  ; the  picture  of  God  upon  his 
soul : and,  though  the  resemblance  must  needs  be  ex- 
tremely faint  and  imperfect,  yet,  by  a constant  applica- 
tion and  meditation  upon  the  beauties  of  the  original, 
he  cannot  fail  to  make  an  admirable  piece. 

III.  Prayer,  unaccompanied  with  ^ fervent  love  of 
God,  is  like  a lamp  unlighted ; the  words  of  the  one  with- 
out love,  being  as  unprofitable  as  the  oil  and  cotton  of 
the  other  without  flame. 

IV.  Faith  is  as  necessary  to  the  soul,  as  the  sun  is  to 
the  world : were  it  not  for  these  bright  prolific  lights, 
both  the  one  and  the  other  must  remain  dark  and  fruit- 
less. 

V.  Had  we,  (what  we  can  .only  have  by  a divine  illu- 
mination of  our  reason,  which  I beg  of  my  good  God 
to  vouchsafe  me,)  had  we,  I say,  true  notions  of  God 
and  eternity,  right  notions  of  ourselves  and  of  the  world 
they  could  not  fail  to  create  in  us  thoughts  full  of  humility 
toward  ourselves,  full  of  contempt  toward  the  world. 


1S6  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOAV, 

full  of  the  highest  adoration  toward  God,  and  full  of 
earnestness  to  acquire  a happy  eternity. 

VI.  The  faculty  of  thinking  justly,  is  a more  desira- 
ble talent  than  that  of  eloquence  in  speaking ; the  one 
being  in  order  to  an  advantage  only  in  expectation, 
whereas  the  other  is  the  assured  mark  of  a mighty  ad- 
vantage already  received  ; the  one  tends  to  the  advance- 
ment of  interest  or  reputation,  the  other  to  the  increase 
of  wisdom  and  virtue ; the  one  may  make  a man  more 
agreeable  to  the  world,  the  other  will  infallibly  render 
him  most  agreeable  to  himself,  and,  what  is  infinitely 
more  valuable,  most  acceptable  to  God. 

VII.  My  adorable  God,  I humbly  beseech  thee  to  ac- 
cept the  sacrifice  I here,  in  all  humility,  and  I trust,  sin- 
cerity, desire  to  make  thee,  of  the  remainder  of  my 
life ; to  be  entirely  employed,  with  the  utmost  vigor 
both  of  my  soul  and  body,  in  thy  service  and  adoration. 
And  I humbly  implore  thee  to  bestow  upon  me  every 
grace,  and  every  virtue,  which  may  render  me  accepta- 
ble to  thee,  and  worthy  of  thy  service.  Pardon,  I be- 
seech thee,  all  the  heinous  sins  and  offences  of  my  life 
past,  for  the  sake  of  thy  blessed  Son,  my  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ  ; and  be  pleased  to  bestow  upon  me  a steadfast 
faith,  an  ardent  love,  an  humble  and  perfect  obedience, 
and  a will,  capable  of  no  other  inclination,  than  what  it 
shall  continually  receive  from  the  absolute  guidance  of 
thy  divine  will ; to  which  I beg  it  may  be  ever  perfectly 
subservient,  with  all  readiness  and  cheerfulness.  And,  if 
any  action  of  my  life,  or  thought  of  my  soul,  should 
ever,  in  the  least,  be  contradictory  to  it,  1 heartily  re- 
nounce toth  that  and  myself.  My  good  God,  as  I could 
not  have  taken  this  resolution  without  thy  particular 
mercy,  so  I know  that  I shall  never  be  able  to  main- 
tain it,  without  thy  continual  assistance.  Give  me,  there- 
fore, of  thy  great  goodness,  entirely  to  overcome  all  my 
passions,  and  to  contract  and  draw  all  my  afiections  into 
one  constant  and  ever-flowing  stream  of  love  to  thee. 
Let  neither  the  world,  nor  life  itself,  be  ever  able  to 
withdraw  the  least  part  of  them  from  this  channel.  But, 
as  all  my  thoughts  and  actions  are  continually  before 
thee,  so  I humby  beseech  thee  that  they  may  never  be 
unworthy  of  thy  divine  presence,  for  Jesus  Christ  his 
sake,  thy  blessed  Son,  my  merciful  Redeemer. 


18t 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 

VIII.  That  is  an  admirable  expression  in  the  first  col- 
lect in  the  Morning  Prayer,  “ Thy  service  is  perfect 
freedom.”  And  a noble  freedom  it  is  indeed,  to  have 
the  soul  released  from  the  insupportable  slavery  of  ig- 
norance and  vice,  and  set  at  liberty  to  range  in  the  spa- 
cious and  delicious  plains  of  wisdom  and  virtue ; to 
have  it  delivered  from  the  harsh  and  turbulent  tyranny 
of  insulting  passions,  and  established  under  the  gentle 
and  delightful  government  of  right  reason.  O my  good 
God,  grant  my  soul  this  happy  freedom,  and  set  my 
heart  at  liberty,  that  I may  cheerfully  run  the  ways  of 
thy  blessed  commandments,  and  suffer  no  impediment 
to  obstruct  my  course ! 

IX.  Nothing  can  be  truly  valuable,  that  will  not  be 
valuable  a hundred  years  together.  To  demonstrate 
this  truth  to  our  understanding,  we  have  but  to  consider 
the  millions  of  years  that  have  preceded  this  hundred 
years,  and  the  vast  eternity  that  preceded  them ; the 
millions  of  years  that  must  succeed  this  hundred  years, 
and  the  boundless  eternity  that  will  succeed  them;  and, 
after  a serious  and  just  comparison  between  the  one  and 
the  other,  we  shall  find  a hundred  years  a most  con- 
temptible portion  of  time.  After  the  same  manner,  we 
have  but  to  consider  riches,  honor,  reputation,  and  even 
life  itself ; they  must  all  have  an  end,  as  to  any  particu- 
lar person,  within  a much  shorter  compass,  than  that  of 
a hundred  years : and  upon  such  a consideration,  we 
shall  be  forced  to  acknowledge  that  our  contempt  would 
be  bestowed  upon  them,  with  much  more  reason  and 
justice,  than  that  high  esteem  and  veneration  which 
most  men  think  their  due.  And  it  is,  indeed,  much 
more  worthy  of  a wise  man  to  labor  to  despise,  rather 
than  to  procure  them,  and  to  seek  his  felicity,  more  in 
the  contempt  than  in  the  enjoyment  of  them.^ 

X.  The  great  uncertainty  and  inconstancy  so  gene- 
rally observed  in  mankind,  is,  doubtless,  from  this  cause, 
that  all  their  fancies  and  imaginations  spring,  not  from 
the  truth  and  reality  of  things,  but  from  their  passions ; 
which,  being  very  changeable  and  irregular,  can  never 

‘ In  this  and  in  a subsequent  meditation  (sect,  xv.)  such  as  are  con- 
versant with  the  writings  of  Epictetus,  and  Marcus  Antoninus,  will 
discern  a great  connexion  between  the  reasoning  of  our  author  and 
that  of  the  ancient  Stoics.— First  Ed. 


188  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

produce  regular  ideas,  any  more  than  a crooked  rule  can 
be  the  measure  of  a straight  line.  A mind  surrounded 
with  passions,  is  in  as  miserable  a condition  as  a country 
too  weak  to  defend  itself,  seated  in  the  midst  of  many 
powerful  princes,  continually' contending  for  the  pos- 
session of  it : sometimes  it  is  surprised  one,  some- 
times by  another ; but  it  is  never  long  under  the  govern- 
ment of  the  same  master ; nor  can  it  have  the  benefit 
to  be  governed  by  settled  and  regular  laws,  which  will 
always  be  altered  by  every  new  intruder.  In  this  de- 
plorable state  is  the  mind  surrounded  with  powerful 
passions  ; sometimes  subdued  by  one,  and  sometimes 
by  another,  but  always  a slave ; ever  variable  and  chang- 
ing, but  never  for  the  better.  Now,  that  this  is  the  true 
cause  of  man’s  inconstancy,  evidently  appears  from  the 
following  considerations.  What  different  ideas  arise  in 
the  mind,  from  the  two  passions  of  prodigality  and  ava- 
rice ? How  unlike  are  the  images  drawn  upon  it  by 
the  passion  of  love,  to  those  which  are  drawn  by  malice 
and  revenge  ? Nay,  at  different  times,  how  unlike  will 
the  same  passion  make  a man  to  himself?  How  strange 
and  ridiculous  a change  does  pride  make  in  a man : one 
hour,  it  shall  humble  him  to  act  the  part  of  a base,  mean 
flatterer,  making  most  servile  courtship  and  addresses 
to  some  powerful  favorite  ; the  next  hour  raising  him 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  insolence,  it  shall  make  him  look 
with  contempt  and  disdain  upon  all  whom  he  thinks  his 
inferiors  ? When  a man  is  thus  governed  by  his  pas- 
sions, it  is  impossible  to  know  any  thing  of  him  cer- 
tainly, but  his  name : for,  like  a Proteus,  he  is  continu- 
ally transformed  by  those  passions  into  some  new  mon- 
ster; and  this  changeableness  in  himself,  will  make  his 
judgment  uncertain  and  variable ; at  one  time  approv- 
ing what  he  dislikes  at  another ; the  same  things  be- 
coming, alternately,  the  objects  of  his  pleasure  and  dis- 
pleasure; eagerly  pursued  one  day,  and  rejected  the 
next ; and  thus,  things  continually  change  their  shapes 
and  appearances,  according  as  his  deceitful  passions 
shall  think  fit  to  represent  them,  Now,  it  is  easy  to 
imagine  how  the  mind  must  labor  with  anxiety,  under 
these  false  representations  of  things  made  by  the  passions : 
and  what  a comfort  and  support  it  would  be  to  be  enabled 
to  steer  a steady  course  : to  be  able  truly  to  distinguish 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  189 

good  from  evil,  to  choose  the  one  and  refuse  the  other  ; 
and,  having  made  a right  choice  of  things  pleasant  and 
profitable,  to  be  sure  to  have  them  constant,  and,  as  such, 
always  to  be  approved  and  embraced  by  the  judgment. 
Now  these  true  representations  of  things  to  the  mind, 
can  be  made  only  by  illuminated  reason  ; and  we  may 
be  sure,  that  such  images  as  she  draws  of  them,  will 
have  a true  likeness.  And,  if  she  were  to  copy  them 
over  again  ten  thousand  times,  she  would  draw  them 
exactly  with  the  same  lineaments  and  features ; for, 
where  the  things  themselves  do  not  alter,  we  may  be 
sure  her  pencil  will  not  vary. 

XI.  In  order  to  pass  a right  and  just  judgment  in 
any  case  whatsoever,  it  is  necessary  to  have  unbiassed 
affections.  How,  then,  can  a man  captivated  and  in- 
flamed with  the  love  of  sensual  pleasures,  be  capable  of 
giving  an  impartial  judgment,  between  God  and  the 
world  ? Or  how  is  a man,  with  affections  enslaved  by 
vice,  fit  to  judge  between  that  and  virtue  ? And  yet, 
men  thus  incapaciated  to  be  judges  in  these  cases  are 
often  very  confidently  passing  sentence  : and,  what  is 
worse,  too  many  seemingly  unconcerned  spectators,  are 
apt  to  be  persuaded  that  their  judgment  is  equitable. 

XII.  Meditation  is  the  life  of  virtue,  as  virtue  is  the 
life  of  the  soul.  It  is  the  conduit,  by  which  a happy 
and  delightful  communication  is  maintained  between 
God  and  the  soul ; through  which  the  graces  and  bless- 
ings of  God  descend  to  the  soul,  and  through  ^rhich, 
the  ardor,  the  praises,  and  adoration  of  the  soul,  ascend 
to  God.  It  is  the  exercise  of  the  soul,  which  makes  it, 
and  preserves  it,  vigorous  and  healthful ; without  which 
it  would  soon  become  heavy  and  languid,  void  of  plea- 
sure and  weary  of  its  own  being ; and  this  uneasiness 
would  oblige  it  to  seek  ‘its  satisfaction  in  vain  and  tri- 
fling entertainments,  and  debase  it,  at  last,  even  to  folly 
and  vice. 

XIII.  I suppose  these  words,  “ Pray  without  ceas- 
ing,” may  very  well  be  interpreted  according  to  the  lite- 
ral meaning.  For,  if  the  soul  can  once  get  an  absolute 
dominion  over  its  passions,  keeping  continually  a strict 
guard  over  them  ; if  it  be  always  duly  prepared,  and 
have,  in  their  just  degrees,  all  the  requisites  of  prayer, 
which  are  faith,  repentance,  love,  humility,  obedience,. 


190  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

thankfulness,  resignation,  charity,  and  sincerity ; 
though  the  man  be  not  always  upon  his  knees,  yet,  his 
conversation  will  in  such  a manner  be  in  heaven,  his 
soul  will  be  so  abstracted  from  the  world,  as  to  be  almost 
continually  exercising  itself,  in  some  act  either  of  praise, 
petition,  or  adoration  of  God.  Which,  no  doubt,  his 
infinite  goodness  will  accept  as  an  incessant  prayer, 
though  it  be  not  accompanied  with  all  the  outward  cir- 
cumstances of  devotion  ; which,  to  be  sure,  will  not  be 
neglected  neither,  by  such  a one,  at  proper  seasons. 
And,  in  reality,  a formal  and  customary  kneeling,  a lift- 
ing  up  the  hands  and  eyes  to  heaven,  without  the  heart, 
a cold  and  careless  uttering  of  words,  are  but  the  dead 
carcass  of  prayer.  The  life  of  it  consists  in  the  combi- 
nation of  the  fore-mentioned  qualifications ; without 
which  it  can  neither  be  satisfactory  to  a wise  man,  nor, 
it  is  to  be  feared,  acceptable  to  the  Almighty  God  : 
Whom  I humbly  beg,  to  instruct  and  enable  me  both 
how  and  what  to  pray ; that  none  of  my  addresses  to 
Him  may  be  unworthy  of  so  great  and  glorious  a being. 

XIV.  Had  men  but  the  same  curiosity  in  their  inqui- 
ries relating  to  the  essence  of  God,  and  the  immortality 
of  their  own  souls,  that  they  have  in  other  philosophical 
matters,  it  would  carry  them  earnestly  to  implore  His 
assistance ; which  is  absolutely  necessary,  in  order  to 
make  the  experiments  requisite  for  such  sublime  dis- 
coveries. By  the  help  of  these  experiments,  a mighty 
progress  would  soon  be  made,  in  those  most  profitable 
sciences  of  wisdom  and  virtue ; which,  indeed,  are  the 
only  sciences  worthy  of  our  time  and  pains ; the  only 
ones,  that  can  conduct  us  to  substantial  happiness  in 
this  life,  and  to  that  which  is  eternal  in  the  next.  But 
happiness,  temporal  and  eternal,  are  too  generally  neg- 
lected, through  our  ignorance  of  their  beauties  and  ad- 
vantages. Now,  the  experiment  I would  have  all  men 
try,  is  this  : first,  having  made  a serious  and  sincere  ap- 
plication to  God,  to  betake  themselves  heartily  to  sub- 
due all  their  passions,  which  are  so  many  clouds  and  fa- 
tal impediments  to  the  mind’s  advancement  in  this  most 
excellent  knowledge  ; to  purify  the  soul,  as  much  as 
possible,  from  all  vicious  and  impure  affections  and  in- 
clinations ; and,  after  these  things  are  done,  it  were 
hard  to  conjecture  what  infinitely  profitable,  and  conse- 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  191 

quently  delightful,  discoveries  she  would  be  enabled  to 
make  of  her  own  nature,  and,  in  how  extraordinary  a 
manner  the  good  God  would  be  pleased  to  reveal  him- 
self to  her,  being  thus  purified.  Those  happy  few  alone 
can  tell,  who  have  made  the  experiment ; none  but  they 
can  know  what  evidences  and  assurances  of  their  own 
immortality  are  conveyed  by  that  Divine  Being,  to  souls 
thus  disposed  to  receive  them  ; what  glances  of  his  eter- 
nal brightness  and  glory  he  is  pleased  to  dart  upon 
them,  for  their  comfort  and  encouragement ; and  what 
extraordinary  measures  of  faith,  how  nearly  approach- 
ing to  certainty,  he  may  vouchsafe,  for  the  completion 
of  their  felicity,  to  afford  them,  by  the  more  intimate 
communication  and  operation  of  his  blessed  Spirit. 

XV.  It  is  of  great  use  to  reflect,  that  the  riches,  ho- 
nors, and  pleasures,  which  we  are  apt  so  eagerly  to  pur- 
sue, when  past,  leave  no  advantage  behind  them  ; and 
that  all  the  pains,  miseries,  and  troubles,  which  we  so 
carefully  avoid,  when  they  depart  from  us,  carry  all 
their  mischiefs  along  with  them.^  So  that  it  is  equal, 
when  a man  comes  to  die,  whether  he  spent  all  his  time 
in  pleasures  and  delights,  lying  at  his  ease  on  beds  of 
down,  or  whether  he  had  lain  all  his  lifetime  tormented 
upon  a rack  ; whether  he  had  lived  a king,  or  a beggar  : 
so  great  are  the  vanities  of  the  one  condition  ; so  short 
the  miseries  of  the  other.  ® 

XVI.  That  a man  should  not  find  in  his  heart  to 
betake  himself  to  the  solid  comforts  of  a virtuous  life, 
for  fear  of  interrupting  or  spoiling  the  gay  diversions 
of  the  world,  is  just  as  reasonable,  as  that  a man  should 
be  so  much  delighted  with  the  neatness  of  his  garden, 
and  charmed  with  the  variety  of  plants  and  flowers,  and 
its  other  pretty  contrivances,  that  he  could  not  find  it 
in  his  heart  to  deface  it,  though  he  were  sure  to  discover 
a mine  of  gold  by  digging  it  up. 

b The  same  sentiment  has  been  finely  expressed  by  Musonius ; who 
was  honored  with  banishment  by  Nero.  I take  the  liberty  of  transferring 
the  passage,  from  the  vast  common-place  book  of  Aulus  Gellius  : — 

* Av  Tt  Trpa^rjsKoXov  ficra  ttovov.  b nev  irovos  oi)(^eTaij  to  Se  koXov  fxevet. 

Av  Ti  TToirjarji  aiar^pov  [led* *  fj^ovrjg.  to  jicv  f/Sv  oi'xtTai,  to  6e  aiff^pov  fievei, 

Aul.  Gell.  xvi.  2 — Ed. 

t*  If  a gwd  action  cost  us  labor,  the  labor  is  soon  past,  but  the  virtue  of  the 
action  continues  ; — If  a base  action  be  performed  with  pleasure,  the  pleasure 
is  soon  past,  but  the  shame  remains.] 

® See  medit.  ix.  and  the  note  there  given,  at  the  foot  of  the  page. 


192  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

XVII.  Whosoever  would  be  wise,  and  consequently 
happy,  must  raze  out  of  his  mind  all  those  false  mis- 
taken notions  which  have  been  imprinted  there  from 
his  infancy ; and  must  endeavor  to  expel  from  thence 
that  pernicious  infection  of  error,  which  it  has  been  so 
long  hatching  from  erroneous  customs  and  examples, 
and  which,  if  too  long  neglected,  will  prove  fatal  to  it. 
Among  ten  thousand  other  things,  of  which  we  have 
mistaken  notions,  I will  make  choice  of  life  and  death, 
for  my  present  consideration.  How  charmingly  de- 
sirable does  our  fancy  paint  the  one,  and  with  what 
dreadful  deformity  does  it  disguise  the  other!  And 
how  uneasy  are  these  wrong  conceptions  apt  to  make 
us,  by  fixing  our  affections  upon  that  life  which  we  must 
not  long  enjoy,  and  raising  our  aversion  to  that  death 
which  we  cannot  possibly  avoid  ! Our  great  business, 
then,  in  order  to  make  our  days  serene  and  happy,  is 
to  remove  our  affection  from  life,  and  our  aversion  from 
death.  And,  to  compass  this,  we  must  deface  those 
images  of  them  both  which  our  deluding  fancies  have 
drawn  upon  our  minds,  -and  set  ourselves  diligently  to 
trace  out  new  lines,  and  more  resembling  features.  And 
first,  to  consider  that  gaudy  blaze  of  life  which  appears 
so  fair,  and  shines  so  bright ; which  is  extinguished 
almost  as  soon  as  kindled,  and,  by  its  speedy  decay, 
becomes  contemptible:  let  us  paint  it,  binding  and  fet- 
tering the  soul,  and  detaining  it  in  a dark  uncomfortable 
prison,  darkened  by  ignorance  and  made  uncomfortable 
by  folly.  And  let  death  be  drawn  in  its  natural  shape, 
as  the  friend  and  deliverer  of  the  soul,  approaching  to 
release  it  from  this  hated  confinement,  and  to  put  it  into 
the  possession  of  that  desirable  liberty,  after  which  it 
had  so  long  been  languishing.  What  we  improperly 
call  life,  is  no  more  of  life,  than  that  which  a child  has 
in  the  womb,  who  cannot  properly  be  said  to  enter  into 
life  till  it  is  born,  and  the  midwife  is  thought  to  do  it  no 
unkind  office  in  bringing  it  into  the  world.  Why,  then, 
should  we  think  death  our  enemy,  for  doing  the  same 
friendly  office  to  the  soul,  which  cannot  truly  be  said 
to  enter  into  life,  till  it  enters  into  eternity ; since  that 
only  is  worthy  to  be  called  life,  which  is  eternal,  and  to 
which  it  can  attain  only  by  the  kind  assistance  of  death  ? 
Then  those  glimmering  sparks  of  life  which  it  had  here 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  193 

below,  will  be  kindled  into  a glorious  unextinguishable 
flame.  And,  instead  of  those  faint  rays  of  pleasure 
which,  by  the  means  of  faith  and  virtue,  it  pleased  the 
great  and  good  God  to  make  shine  upon  it  here,  eternal 
streams  of  joy  and  brightness  shall  then  flow  in  upon 
it,  from  the  incomprehensible  glories  of  the  divine 
presence.^ 

XVIII.  Faith  is  the  brightness  of  the  great  God 
shining  upon  the  soul ; and  virtue,  which  is  nothing 
else  but  a combination  of  love  and  obedience  to  him,  is 
a light  proceeding  from  faith.  They  both  ebb  and  flow 
together;  and  when  faith  rushes  in  plentifully,  and 
rises  high  in  the  soul,  virtue  will  maintain  a proportion- 
able  height ; but  as  faith  retires  and  grows  low,  virtue 
will  retreat  and  sink  also.  Now  our  passions  are  the 
black  thick  clouds  that  cause  so  frequent  and  tedious 
eclipses  of  this  light  of  faith  ; and  by  their  interposition, 
deprive  the  soul  of  its  only  comfort.  They  are  those 
fierce  and  strong  winds,  which  keep  back  this  tide  from 
flowing  in  upon  the  soul,  both  to  refresh  and  enrich  it ; 
which,  I think,  is  argument  sufficient  for  the  absolute 


i ‘ He  that  is  no  fool,  but  can  consider  wisely,  if  he  be  in  love  with 
this  world,  we  need  not  despair,  but  that  a witty  man  might  reconcile 
him  with  tortures,  and  make  him  think  charitably  of  the  rack,  and  be 
brought  to  dwell  with  vipers  and  dragons,  and  entertain  his  guests 
with  the  shrieks  of  mandrakes,  cats,  and  screech-owls,  with  the  filing 
of  iron,  and  the  harshness  of  rending  of  silk,  or  to  admire  the  harmony 
that  is  made  by  a herd  of  evening  wolves,  when  they  miss  their  draught 
of  blood  in  their  midnight  revels.  The  groans  of  a man  in  a fit  of  the 
stone,  are  worse  than  all  these  ; and  the  distractions  of  a troubled  con- 
science are  worse  than  those  groans ; and  yet  a careless,  merry  sinner 
is  worse  than  all  that. 

‘ But  if  we  could,  from  one  of  the  battlements  of  heaven,  espy  how 
many  men  and  women,  at  this  time,  be  fainting  and  dying  for  want  of 
bread,  how  many  young  men  are  hewn  down  by  the  sword  of  war, 
how  many  poor  orphans  are  now  weeping  over  the  graves  of  their 
fathers,  by  whose  life  they  were  enabled  to  eat ; if  we  could  but  hear, 
how  many  mariners  and  passengers  are,  at  this  present,  in  a storm, 
and  shriek  out,  because  their  keel  dashes  against  a rock,  or  bulges 
under  them ; how  many  people  there  are  that  weep  with  want,  and 
are  mad  with  oppression,  or  are  desperate  by  too  quick  a sense  of  a 
constant  infelicity : in  all  reason,  we  should  be  glad  to  be  out  of  the 
noise  and  participation  of  so  many  evils.  This  is  a place  of  sorrows 
and  tears,  of  great  evils  and  a constant  calamity  : let  us  remove  from 
hence,  at  least  in  affections  and  preparation  of  mind.’ — Ji;hemy  Tay- 
lor, Holy  Dyings  vol.  IV.  p.  367. — Ed. 

17 


194  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW, 

necessity  of  the  utter  extirpation  of  our  pernicious 
passions.® 

XIX.  How  long  is  the  soul  kept  and  nourished  in 
ignorance  of  itself,  and  of  its  original ; like  a child  of 
noble  extraction,  obliged  by  some  misfortune  to  be  con- 
cealed and  educated  as  their  own,  by  poor  peasants ! 
Believing  himself  to  be  of  no  higher  birth,  the  child 
entertains  no  other  than  mean  and  low  thoughts  and 
designs,  suitable  to  such  a condition.  But  so  soon  as 
his  true  parents  are  made  known  to  him,  he  quickly 
banishes  from  his  mind  all  that  is  base  and  ignoble,  and, 
animated  by  the  knowledge  of  his  true  condition,  con- 
ceives such  thoughts  as  are  answerable  to  it.  It  is  faith 
which  makes  this  discovery  to  the  soul ; and  no  sooner 
acquaints  it  that  it  has  the  great  God  for  its  parent, 
than  it  discards  all  base,  ungenerous  designs,  and  re- 
nounces its  former  trifling  pleasures  and  mean  affec- 
tions, disdaining  the  low  objects  of  its  love  and  desire. 
It  is  immediately  filled  with  noble  and  aspiring  thoughts; 
all  its  aims  and  designs  from  thenceforth  become  great 
and  elevated,  and  worthy  of  its  divine  birth. 

XX.  It  is  wonderful  that  pride  should  be  so  natural 
to  man  ; that  it  should  take  root  so  deep  in  so  impotent 
and  helpless  a creature.  For,  when  rightly  considered, 
all  human  power  is  entirely  founded  upon  human  weak- 
ness : it  is  not  the  empire  over  beasts,  but  over  his  fel- 
low-creature man,  that  is  the  subject  of  his  ambition, 
and  cause  of  his  pride.  And  this  reflection  ought  to 
be  his  mortification,  that  he  himself  is  liable  to  all  the 
injuries  which  he  can  offer  to  another : and  that  it  is 
the  weakness  and  infirmity  of  human  nature,  common 
alike  to  himself  and  others,  which  renders  any  man 
obnoxious  to  his  cruelty  or  oppression. 

XXL  Pride,  by  a great  mistake,  is  commonly  taken 
for  greatness  of  soul,  as  if  the  soul  was  to  be  ennobled 
by  vice.  Now,  that  pride  is  one  of  the  most  enormous 
of  vices,  I think  no  reasonable  man  will  dispute ; it  is 
the  base  offspring  of  weakness,  imperfection,  and  igno- 
rance ; since,  were  we  not  weak  and  imperfect  crea- 
tures, we  should  not  be  destitute  of  the  knowledge  of 


* When  I speak  of  the  extirpation  of  passions,  I mean  only  the 
restraint  of  the  vicious  extravagance  of  our  affections. — See  Sect,  xxiii. 


MOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  195 

ourselves ; and,  had  we  that  knowledge,  it  were  impos- 
sible we  should  be  proud.  But,  on  the  contrary,  gen- 
uine humility  is  the  certain  mark  of  a bright  reason  and 
elevated  soul;  for  in  truth,  it  is  their  natural  conse- 
quence. When  we  come  to  have  our  minds  cleared  by 
reason,  from  the  thick  mists  that  our  disorderly  passions 
cast  about  them ; when  we  come  to  discern  more  per- 
fectly, and  consider  more  nearly,  the  immense  power 
and  goodness,  the  infinite  glory  and  duration,  of  God  ; 
when  we  come  to  make  a comparison  between  his  per- 
fections, and  our  own  frailty  and  weakness,  and  the 
shortness  and  uncertainty  of  our  beings, — then  we 
should  humble  ourselves  even  to  the  dust  before  him. 
Can  the  greatest  monarch  upon  earth  free  himself  from 
the  least  mischief  incident  to  the  meanest  of  men? 
Can  he,  by  his  own  power,  give  vigor  to  his  body, 
or  length  to  his  life  ? Can  he  free  the  body  from  pains 
and  diseases,  or  the  life  from  vexation  and  trouble  ? If 
not,  what  excellence  has  he  to  boast  of,  above  other 
men  ? What  advantage  has  he  to  be  proud  of,  in  rela- 
tion to  his  fellow-creatures  ? Custom  has  made  a wide 
difference,  indeed,  between  man  and  man ; but  it  is  a 
difference  purely  fanciful  and  not  real ; for  it  must  be 
some  intrinsic  worth  in  any  creature,  that  gives  it  the 
preference  to  another.  Titles,  riches,  and  fine  houses, 
contribute  no  more  to  making  one  man  better  than  an- 
other, than  the  finer  saddle  to  making  the  better  horse. 
And  it  truly  shows  a poor  spirit,  for  one  man  to  take 
these  paltry  advantages  of  another.  If  he  is  ambitious 
to  excel  his  fellows,  let  it  be  in  something  that  belongs 
to  himself,  something  that  demonstrates  him  to  be  a 
better  creature.  Let  him  not  think,  like  a false  jewel 
among  ignorant  people,  to  derive  a value  from  being 
set  in  gold.  Let  him  contend  in  virtue,  which  alone  is 
capallle  of  putting  a great  and  true  difference  between 
man  and  man.  Whosoever  gains  the  advantage  here, 
has  reason  to  value  it,  though  it  will  never  make  him 
proud. 

XXII.  At  first  it  seems  a little  strange  that  reason, 
which  is  always  constant  and  the  same,  should  make 
such  various  impressions  upon  the  minds  of  men.  But, 
when  we  come  to  consider,  it  is  no  more  to  be  wondered 
at  that  men  differ  in  their  judgments  and  opinions,  than 


196 


DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 


[how, 

that  they  are  unlike  in  their  faces.  For  the  same  argu- 
ment must  have  different  effects,  according  to  men’s  dif- 
ferent understandings  ; as  the  same  distant  object  ap- 
pears differently  to  several  men,  according  as  it  happens 
to  strike  each  man’s  sight.  That  which  seems  green  to 
one,  may  appear  blue  to  another  ‘J  so  that,  till  the  sense 
of  seeing  becomes  uniform  in  several  men,  it  is  impos- 
sible that  any  object  should  have  the  same  appearance 
to  them.  And  it  holds  alike,  as  to  the  operation  of  rea- 
son and  arguments  upon  the  mind.  Reason,  we  know, 
is  uniform  ; and  whatever  disputes  concerning  it  arise, 
it  is  not  that  there  are  really  different  appearances  in 
reason,  but  the  difference  is  in  our  conception  and  un- 
derstandings. Reason  is  not  various,  though  our  weak 
judgments  concerning  her  are  so.  If  the  sight  of  all 
men  were  alike  and  true,  every  object  must  necessarily 
appear  alike  to  them,  and  such  as  really  they  are,  with- 
out any  deception  ; and,  in  like  manner,  were  the  minds 
of  all  men  alike,  and  rightly  disposed,  all  arguments 
and  reason  would  work  alike  upon  them  all.  But  in- 
terest, partiality,  pride,  and  other  ungovernable  affec- 
tions, cause  all  the  disorders  in  the  mind ; and,  conse- 
quently, in  the  world. 

XXIII.  The  passions  and  affections^  of  the  mind  are 
commonly  confounded  one  with  another,  and  promis- 
cuously used,  as  two  different  words  to  signify  the  same 
thing : which  I think  prejudicial,  and  apt  to  lead  men 
into  great  and  fatal  mistakes.  For,  since  some  pas- 
sions only  are  taken  to  be  vicious,  and  others  allowed 
to  be  innocent,  as,  by  such  nice  distinctions,  the  differ- 
ence between  them  is  not  easily  discovered  ; so,  by 
men’s  partiality,  and  indulgence  to  their  own  frailties 
and  their  pleasure,  it  is  to  be  feared,  that  such  passions 
only  will  be  by  them  interpreted  to  be  vicious,  as  do  not 
thwart  their  inclinations,  and  to  which  they  themselves 
are  not  greatly  addicted.  By  this  means  vicious  pas- 
sions may  attack  us  in  disguise,  and,  at  distance,  may 

f I recollect  having  read,  several  years  ago,  in  the  ‘ Transactions  of 
the  Literary  and  Philosophical  Society  of  Manchester,’  a very  interest- 
ing paper,  describing  an  extraordinary  organic  hallucination  of  this 
kind. — Ed. 

s The  passions  and  affections  are  innocent  or  vicious,  according  to 
their  degrees  or  tendency. 


HOW.]  HEVOITT  MEDITATIONS*  197 

hang  out  friendly  colors ; but,  when  they  approach  to 
assault  us,  we  shall  perceive  to  our  smart  that  they  are 
enemies.  Besides,  I think  it  is  treating  vice  rather  too 
favorably,  to  let  it  shelter  itself  under  the  same  name 
with  innocence.  Therefore,  for  my  own  private  assist- 
ance, I shall  take  the  liberty  to  make  a distinction  be- 
tween affection  and  passion  ; that  when  the  just  bounda- 
ries between  these  two  very  different  territories  are  fair- 
ly marked  out,  I may  the  better  be  able  to  keep  within 
the  limits  of  the  one,  without  making  incursions  into  the 
other.  Now,  I take  the  affections  of  the  soul  to  be  the 
life  and  vigor  of  it ; by  whose  warmth  and  activity  all 
its  springs  receive  their  power  of  moving  and  acting ; 
and  without  which  the  soul  could  no  more  subsist,  than 
the  body  without  the  soul : for  it  is  by  the  help  of  the 
affections,  that  it  moves  to  good  or  evil,  that  it  acts  vir- 
tuously or  viciously.  The  affections  may  be  called  the 
fire  of  the  soul ; which,  wisely  managed,  is  ready  to 
serve  it  for  all  sorts  of  beneficial  purposes ; but,  care- 
lessly neglected,  or  foolishly  employed,  is  capable  of 
breaking  into  unruly  flames,  to  man’s  utter  ruin  and 
destruction.  So  long  as  this  fire  is  under  the  manage- 
ment of  reason,  it  is  both  useful  and  necessary,  and  still 
retains  the  name  of  affection  ; but,  when  it  becomes  dis- 
orderly and  breaks  loose  from  the  government  of  rea- 
son, then  it  becomes  pernicious  and  vicious,  and  deserv- 
edly assumes  the  name  of  passion^  which  signifies  the 
disorder  and  anguish  of  the  soul.  When,  therefore,  at 
any  time,  I speak  of  the  necessity  of  eradicating,  or  ex- 
tinguishing XhQ  passions^  I do  not  mean  to  eradicate,  or 
extinguish  the  affections  of  the  soul,  without  which  it 
cannot  subsist ; but  to  eradicate  and  extinguish  its  dis- 
orders and  anguish,  with  which  it  cannot  subsist  com- 
fortably. 

XXIV.  Human  reason,  of  itself,  has  not  power  suffi- 
cient to  conduct  a man  to  wisdom  and  virtue.  These 
are  of  so  noble  and  sublime  a nature,  that  nothing  but 
the  divine  influence  can  produce  them  in  the  soul  of 
man.  Virtue  may,  therefore,  be  termed  a new  affec- 
tion, not  born  in  the  soul,  but  introduced  into  it  by  the 
divine  influence ; which  moves  a man  to  love  those 
things  that  are  pleasing  to  God,  and  to  hate  and  reject 
whatsoever  may  offend  him. 

17^ 


198  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

XXV.  Man  is  both  born  and  nourished  in  error  : he 
imbibes  not  only  his  nurse’s  milk,  but  her  errors : he 
receives  from  his  parents,  not  his  being  only,  but,  to- 
gether with  it,  their  errors  also  : he  is  not  only  diverted 
with  the  conversation  of  his  companions,  but  infected 
with  their  mistakes.  Thus  error  takes  the  earliest  pos- 
session of  the  soul,  and  never  quits  her  hold,  till  obliged 
to  it,  either  by  the  grace  of  God,  or  by  the  stroke  of 
death.  Nor  is  it  any  wonder,  in  these  circumstances, 
that  man  should  be  ignorant  of  the  right  ends  of  life, 
and  of  his  true  business  in  the  world.  It  is  to  be  feared, 
that  too  many  have  no  other  notion,  than  that  they  are 
placed  in  the  world,  like  beasts  in  a pasture,  to  devour 
its  product ; and  that  their  great  work  is  to  endeavor  to 
excel  each  other  in  large  possessions,  rich  clothes,  state- 
ly houses,  costly  furniture,  splendid  equipage,  delicate 
tables,  and  such  other  trinkets  of  pride  and  luxury,  and 
incitements  to  violence  and  injustice.  And  this  is  the 
noble  ambition  that  kind  parents  strive  to  kindle  in 
their  beloved  children  ! Great  God  ! that  men’s  un- 
derstandings and  ambition  should  be  so  short-sighted, 
as  neither  to  see,  nor  aim  at  any  thing,  beyond  the  poor 
extent  of  these  impertinent  vanities  ! And  that  any 
man  can  think  that  thou  hast  given  him  a being,  to  be 
wholly  employed  in  these  pursuits  ! That  thou  hast  be- 
stowed reason  upon  him,  only  that  he  may  sully  it  with 
his  passions  ; as  if  the  use  of  it  were,  not  to  give  him 
the  pre-eminence  over  beasts,  but  to  render  him  inferior 
to  them ; for,  doubtless,  a rational  brute  is  the  worst  of 
brutes,  as  having  larger  capacities  for  mischief.  It  is 
strange  that  men  can  think  that  they  receive  blessings 
from  God,  not  to  make  them  more  mindful  of  him,  or 
to  excite  their  addresses  to  him,  but  to  make  them  neg- 
lect and  forget  him ! that  his  gifts  are  bestowed  upon 
them,  to  rob  the  great  Benefactor  of  that  affection,  which 
should  be  the  usual  consequence  of  his  beneficence! 
and  that  the  faint  and  forced  adorations  of  their  last 
breath  are  the  only  tribute  due  to  God,  as  it  is,  too 
often,  the  only  one  that  falls  to  his  share  ! 

XXVI.  All  men  have  some  chief  aim  superior  to  all 
others  ; the  compassing  of  which,  is  the  great  employ- 
ment of  their  thoughts,  and  labor  of  their  souls.  Other 
designs  are  carried  on  only  leisurely  and  accidentally, 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  199 

without  any  great  concern  ; the  soul  being  entirely  bent 
upon  the  success  of  that  object,  which  it  has  made  choice 
of  as  its  grand  business  and  satisfaction.  The  object  of 
the  ambitious  man  is  power  and  honor  ; that  of  the  lux- 
urious man,  is  sensual  pleasure ; that  of  the  covetous 
man,  is  the  increase  of  his  wealth.  But  that  of  the  wise 
man,  is  the  increase  of  his  virtue.  He  looks  upon  the 
world  as  a stage,  where  he  is  placed  by  the  great  Crea- 
tor, to  act  his  part;  and  upon  life,  as  the  time  allowed 
him  to  act  it  in.  He  is  diligently  careful  of  all  his  ac- 
tions and  behavior,  knowing  that  his  fate  depends  upon 
his  performances.  He  values  not  the  hissings  or  ap- 
plauses of  the  inconstant,  ignorant  multitude ; but  is 
most  industriously  solicitous  to  obtain  the  approbation 
of  the  Almighty  Spectator. 

XXVH.  Man  is  the  only  creature  in  the  world  whose 
happiness  is  imperfect,  and  who  is  sensible  that  it  is  so  ; 
who  has  something  in  him,  that  disdains  the  imperfection 
of  his  own  being,  and  languishes  aftfer  a condition  more 
perfect.  Werehe,  like  other  animals,  composed  only  of 
flesh  and  blood,  he  would  find  no  more  faults  with  his 
being,  than  they  do  with  theirs ; since  the  matter  of 
which  his  body  and  theirs  is  made,  is  not  capable  of 
such  reflections.  But  these  are  the  secret  repinings  of 
the  soul,  by  which  she  plainly  discovers  herself ; and 
our  attentive  observation  of  her,  will  soon  turn  into  de- 
monstrations that  we  have  such  a principle  existent  in 
us.  And,  since  it  is  natural  for  all  beings  to  seek  and 
thirst  after  happiness,  it  is  necessary  to  know  where  the 
seat  of  happiness  is  fixed.  It  is  the  want  of  this  know- 
ledge, which  makes  us  waste  so  much  time  in  vain  pur- 
suits, and  unprofitable  attempts  ; endeavoring  to  confine 
happiness  to  the  body,  which  is  a prison  too  weak  to 
hold  it.  The  senses  which  conduct  it  thither,  are  too 
feeble  long  to  guard  and  detain  it : it  is  always  attempt- 
ing to  make  its  escape ; and  what  is  worse,  it  never  misses 
its  aim.  Besides,  if  it  has  no  other  existence  than  the 
body,  it  must  be  very  short-lived,  and,  in  a contemptible 
portion  of  time,  must  perish  with  the  body.  A man 
that  is  of  this  opinion  must  be  sure  to  keep  his  thoughts 
always  steadily  confined  within  the  compass  of  this  life 
and  world.  For,  if  they  happen  to  wander  beyond  (it, 
they  will  enter  into  dark  uncomfortable  regions,  that 


200  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [H0\V% 

will  afford  them  nothing  but  black  and  dismal  prospects  5 
which  too  many  unthinking  people  find  by  sad  experi- 
ence. Now  virtue,  which  I may  define  to  be  the  science 
of  happiness,  will  give  us  true  notions  of  happiness,  and 
teach  us  that  its  true  seat  is  in  the  soul.  This  is  of  a 
capacity  large  enough  to  contain  it,  and  of  a duration 
lasting  enough  to  preserve  it  to  eternity : there,  it  may 
rise  to  unmeasurable  heights,  without  restraint ; it  can 
never  overburthen  or  overpower  the  immortal  spirit. 
It  is  the  poor  feeble  body  only,  that  is  not  able  to  sup- 
port it ; too  weak  to  bear  the  rapid  and  violent  motions 
of  the  soul,  when  filled  and  agitated  with  an  excessive 
joy.  The  heart  is  capable  of  supporting  but  a small,  in- 
significant measure  of  enjoyment ; it  may  easily  be  over- 
charged with  it,  like  a gun  with  powder,  and  be  rent  and 
destroyed  with  its  irresistible  efforts  ; according  to  the 
several  degrees  of  which,  it  often  occasions  ectasies, 
swoonings,  and  death.  The  heart  can  no  more  sustain 
immoderate  joy,  than  immoderate  grief;  the  one  is  des- 
tructive by  too  much  dilation,  the  other  by  too  great  a 
depression  ; and  it  is  equal  whether  the  vessel  be  crushed 
by  too  strong  a pressure  without,  or  torn  in  pieces  by 
too  violent  an  extension  from  wdthin  ; which  soever  of 
them  happens,  the  frail  cask  is  broken,  and  life  spilt. 

XXVIII.  In  case  of  temptation,  it  is  a prudent  cau- 
tion to  avoid  the  encounter,  when  we  are  conscious  of 
weakness,  or  unable  to  withstand  it.  But  I do  not  think 
it  the  part  of  a generous  mind,  to  rest  satisfied  in  a safe- 
ty that  is  always  owing  to  flight.  It  is  much  braver  to 
keep  the  mind  continually  exercised  and  inured  by  ima- 
ginary conflicts,  till  it  is  taught  and  enabled  to  overcome 
in  those  that  are  real; — that,  whatsoever  temptation 
offers  itself,  the  soul  may  be  intrepid  ; and,  coming 
bravely  to  the  encounter,  may  know  how  to  be  victori- 
ous by  its  own  force  and  virtue. 

h What  is  here  so  forcibly  and  beautifully  recommended,  would  seem 
to  be  included  in  that  pithy  injunction  of  the  apostle,  Meditate  upon 
these  things^  1 Tim.  iv.  15.  The  Editor  trusts  he  may  be  pardoned, 
for  extracting  the  following  elucidative  passage  : — 

‘ The  verb  /icXeraw,  wdiich,  from  the  want  of  a more  adequate  repre- 
sentative, we  render  by  the  English  verb  to  meditate^  has  a very  com- 
prehensive meaning.  Among  rhetoricians,  it  includes  all  the  previous 
discipline,  study,  examination  of  the  subject,  invention  of  topics,  pro- 
vision of  materials,  distribution  of  arguments,  selection  and  arrange- 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  201 

XXIX.  It  is  a preposterous  resolution  that  some  peo- 
ple take  of  deferring  to  be  virtuous  till  they  grow  old, 
imagining  that  wisdom  is  the  natural  consequence  of  old 
age  ; as  if  that  which  is  the  greatest  imperfection  of  hu- 
man nature,  were  most  proper  to  confer  upon  us  its  high- 
est perfection.  Long  observation,  indeed,  gives  expe- 
rience ; but  that  is  a thing  very  different  from  wisdom  ; 
though  it  is  the  utmost  advantage  which  old  age  can  pre- 
tend to  bestow  upon  us.  Now,  it  is  to  be  considered 
that  virtue  is  a habit  of  the  mind,  to  be  acquired  with 
great  industry  and  application  ; to  be  forcibly  introduced 
into  the  soul,  in  opposition  to  vice,  which,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  has  obtained  long  and  undisturbed  possession, 
and  which  must  be  dislodged  with  great  difficulty,  and 
by  a persevering  resolution.  Now,  this  is  not  to  be  ef- 
fected in  a little  time  ; the  inhabitants  are  all  of  its  side  ; 
and  it  has  so  carefully  strengthened  the  place  that  the 
siege  must  be  both  long  and  doubtful.  It  is  likely  to  be 
an  achievement  which  will  not  only  require  the  vigor  of 
youth,  but  more  time  also  than  old  age  has  to  bestow 
upon  it.  The  chief  end  of  a virtuous  life  is  to  give  us 
as  near  a resemblance  as  is  possible,  to  God — to  make  us 
pure  as  he  is  pure ; that  is,  to  raise  us  to  the  utmost  de- 


ment of  words,  in  short,  all  the  kinds  and  degrees  of  preparation  which 
the  orator  employs,  that  he  may  be  qualified  to  plead  with  ability  and 
success.  In  military  affairs  and  agonistic  games,  it  embraces  the  scien- 
tific training,  the  study  of  tactics  both  in  theory  and  practice,  the  habit  - 
uation  both  of  mind  and  body  to  endurance  of  fatigue,  the  performance 
of  all  manly  and  warlike  exercises  in  the  time  of  peace,  the  indispens- 
able though  mimic  conflicts  of  countrymen  with  countrymen,  and 
friends  with  friends,  in  order,  when  the  real  conflict  shall  arrive,  to  a 
vigorous  opposition  to  the  foe  or  the  rival,  in  the  arena  or  the  field. 
And  with  moral  writers,  both  profane  and  sacred,  it  has  a meaning 
quite  analogous  to  the  former  two  : it  denotes  that  thoughtful  investi- 
gation of  goodness  and  virtue,  which  flows  from  a heartfelt  interest  in 
the  subject,  and  which  issues  in  uniform,  consistent,  and  exemplary 
practice  ; the  forecasting,  also,  of  probable  or  possible  contingencies, 
which  may  bring  our  virtue  into  trial ; the  habitual  comparison  of 
means  with  ends,  of  our  duties  with  our  powers  ; the  frequent  resolu- 
tion of  human  obligation  at  large,  and  of  our  own  special  obligations  in 
particular,  into  their  several  parts  and  degreed,  with  respect  to  our 
God,  our  neighbor,  and  ourselves ; the  continued  moral  recollection  of 
the  several  relations  in  which  we  stand,  that  there  may  be,  so  far  as 
possible,  no  excess  and  no  defect,  in  our  dealings  and  communications 
with  our  fellow-men.’ — Practical  Theology*  vol.  ii.  p.  184. 

* [By  Bishop  Jebb.] 


202  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [hOW* 

gree  of  purity  of  which  our  frail  nature  is  capable.  Now, 
to  defer  this  work  till  w^e  grow  old,  is  to  resolve  to  be 
as  unlike  God  as  is  possible  ; in  a confident,  but  very 
ridiculous  assurance,  that  old  age  will  help  our  deformi- 
ty, will  give  us  a very  good  resemblance  of  Him,  and 
will,  in  an  instant,  confer  upon  us  purity  like  his,  after 
we  have  wilfully  passed  our  whole  life  in  contracting 
pollution.  So  wonderful  a change  as  this,  it  is  indeed 
possible  for  Him  who  can  do  all  things,  though  not  for 
age,  to  make  ; but  it  is  such  a change  as  no  man  can 
reasonably  expect.  Can  we  think,  when  the  purest  and 
sprightliest  part  of  life  has  been  drawmofif  in  the  service 
of  vice,  that  the  dregs  are  an  offering  fit  for  God  1 Can 
we  think  it  then  only  fit  to  please  him,  w^hen  we  are  un- 
able to  offend  him  any  longer  ? This  is  no  better  than 
being  cast  upon  God  Almighty  by  age  and  infirmity, 
against  < our  will ; like  mariners,  w^ho  are  forced  by 
storms  and  tempests,  upon  a coast  which  they  never  in- 
tended to  come  near. 

XXX.  It  is  generally  believed,  that  the  deluge  occa- 
sioned the  shortness  of  man’s  life ; w^hich  is  much  con- 
tracted since  that  time,  in  comparison  of  its  length  in 
the  time  of  the  antediluvian  patriarchs.  The  vicious- 
ness of  man’s  life  occasioned  the  flood  : and,  very  pro- 
bably, God  thought  fit  to  drown  the  world  for  these 
two  reasons  : first,  to  punish  the  then  living  offenders  ; 
and,  next,  to  prevent  men’s  plunging  into  those  prodi- 
gious depths  of  impiety,  for  all  future  ages.  For  if,  in 
the  short  term  of  life,  which  is  now^  allotted  to  mankind, 
men  are  capable  of  being  puffed  up  to  such  an  insolent 
degree  of  pride  and  folly,  as  to  forget  God  and  their 
own  mortality,  his  powder  and  their  own  w eakness  ; if  a 
prosperity  bounded  by  threescore  and  ten  years  (and 
what  mortal’s  prosperity,  since  the  deluge,  ever  lasted 
so  long?)  can  swell  the  mind  of  so  frail  a creature  to 
such  a prodigious  size  of  vanity,  what  boundaries  could 
be  set  to  his  arrogance,  if  his  life  and  prosperity,  like 
that  of  the  patriarchs,  were  likely  to  continue  eight  or 
nine  hundred  years  together?  If,  under  the  existing 
circumstances  of  life,  men’s  passions  can  rise  so  high ; 
if  the  present  short  and  uncertain  enjoyments  of  the 
world,  are  able  to  occasion  such  an  extravagant  pride, 
puch  unmeasurable  ambition,  such  sordid  avarice,  such 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 

barbarous  rapine  and  injustice,  such  malice  and  envy, 
and  so  many  other  detestable  things,  which  compose 
the  numerous  train  of  vice, — *how,  then,  would  the 
passions  have  flamed,  and  to  what  a monstrous  stature 
would  every  vice  have  grown,  if  those  enjoyments 
which  provoked  and  increased  them  were  of  eight  or 
nine  hundred  years’  duration?  If  eternal  happiness, 
and  eternal  punishment,  are  able  to  make  no  stronger 
impressions  upon  men’s  minds  so  near  at  hand,  it  may 
well  be  imagined,  that  at  so  great  a distance  they  would 
have  made  no  impression  at  all ; that  eternal  happiness 
would  have  been  entirely  devested  of  its  allurements, 
and  eternal  misery  of  its  terrors  ; and  the  great  Creator 
would  have  been  deprived  of  that  obedience  and  adora- 
tion, which  are  so  justly  due  to  him  from  his  creatures. 
Thus  the  inundation  of  vice  has,  in  some  measure,  by 
the  goodness  of  God,  been  prevented  by  an  inundation 
of  water.  That  which  was  the  punishment  of  one 
generation,  may  be  said  to  have  been  the  preservation 
of  all  those  which  have  succeeded.  For,  if  life  had 
not  been  thus  clipped,  one  Tiberius,  one  Caligula,  one 
Nero,  one  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  had  been  sufficient  to 
have  destroyed  the  whole  race  of  mankind  : each  of 
whose  lives,  had  they  been  ten  times  as  long,  and  the 
mischiefs  they  occasioned  multiplied  by  that  number,  it 
might  easily  be  computed  how  great  a plague  one  such 
long-lived  monster  would  have  been  to  the  world. 

XXXI.  Men  are  apt  to  place  very  narrow  limits  to 
human  virtue  ; and,  as  a reason  for  their  so  doing,  they 
plead  the  frailty  of  human  nature  ; which,  they  pretend, 
has  such  scanty  bounds  set  to  it,  that  it  is  in  vain  to 
attempt  to  enlarge  them.  Men  may  flatter  themselves 
if  they  please  with  such  pretences ; but,  I doubt,  they 
will  not  pass  for  warrantable  excuses  of  our  careless- 
ness and  negligence.  I doubt  it  will  appear  that  if  the 
stream  of  our  affections  is  too  small  to  water  a larger 
field  of  virtue,  it  is  because  it  is  diverted  for  other  pur- 
poses into  other  channels.  Where  interest  and  ambi- 
tion lead  men,  they  can  break  through  the  bounds  of 
possibility,  and  march  far  into  the  territories  even  of 
seeming  impossibility.  But  when  virtue  is  our  con- 
ductor, we  are  not  ashamed  to  stop,  long  before  we 
arrive  within  sight  of  those  borders.  In  the  former 


204  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

case,  men  can  depend  upon  the  help  of  that  imaginary 
idol,  Fortune  ; but,  in  the  latter,  they  dare  not  rely  upon 
the  promised  and  sure  assistance  of  the  all-powerful 
God.  The  riches  and  magnificence  of  a Persian  king, 
the  wealthy  treasures  of  the  far  distant  Indies,  could  so 
inflame  the  soul  of  Alexander  the  Great,  as  to  make 
him  perform  actions  incredible,  and  surmount  difficul- 
ties seemingly  unsurmountable.  But  the  eternal  joys 
of  heaven,  the  infinitely  glorious  and  inestimable  trea- 
sures of  the  great  King  of  kings,  have  not,  it  seems, 
charms  enough  to  kindle  in  our  souls  the  same  ardor. 
So  much  is  the  thirst  of  fame  greater  than  the  thirst  of 
virtue ; so  much,  to  our  confusion  be  it  spoken,  are  our 
passions  stronger  than  our  faith. 

XXXII.  A wise  man  must  take  care  not  only  to 
govern  his  own  passions,  but  to  prevent  himself  from 
being  governed  by  the  passions  of  other  men  : for,  if 
we  must  be  subject  to  passion,  it  is  equal  whether  it  be 
our  own  or  that  of  other  people.  When  the  right  way 
is  lost,  it  is  no  matter  to  which  hand  we  wander.  Now 
it  may  happen,  in  many  cases,  that  when  a man  has 
withstood  his  own  passions,  and  acted  in  conformity  to 
reason,  yet  other  men,  guided  by  passion,  not  by  reason, 
finding  fault  with  his  actions,  will  be  apt  to  give  him  a 
dislike  of  his  own  proceedings,  unless  he  be  very  well 
fixed  and  confirmed  in  his  principles  and  reason.  This 
is  a matter  which  very  well  deserves  our  utmost  atten- 
tion ; since  upon  it  depends,  not  oniy  the  peace  and 
tranquillity  of  our  lives,  but  our  virtue  also  ; which 
will  be  in  danger  to  be  shaken,  if  the  mind  be  not 
steady,  and  proof  against  the  reproaches  and  derisions 
of  the  world. 

XXXIII.  Most  men  are  ready  enough  to  reckon  up 
the  income  of  their  estates,  and  compute  how  it  will 
answer  their  several  expenses.  But  few  employ  their 
arithmetic  to  calculate  the  value  and  income  of  their 
life  and  time  ; or  consider  how  they  may  be  expended 
to  the  best  advantage.  In  these,  though  they  are  justly 
accounted  the  more  valuable  treasure,  the  beggar  has 
as  large  a revenue  as  the  king.  The  gracious  God  has 
distributed  equal  portions  of  life  and  time  to  all  degrees 
and  conditions  of  men,  though  not  to  every  particular 
man  the  same  proportion ; and  the  sum  total  of  this,  is 


MOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  205 

threescore  and  ten  years,  all  beyond  that  and  many 
years  also  on  this  side  of  it,  being  but  labor  and  sorrow. 
Now  we  have  to  consider  how  much  of  this  time  is 
likely  to  be  spent  in  happiness  and  enjoyment,  and 
how  much  will  be  employed  to  less  pleasing  purposes. 
Which  may  be  thus  easily  computed.  Twenty  years 
may  be  deducted  for  education,  which  is  a time  of  dis- 
cipline and  restraint,  and  young  people  are  never  easy 
till  they  are  got  over  it ; and  the  last  ten  years  of  the 
seventy  may  be  deducted  for  sickness  and  infirmities, 
which  very  often  are  the  portion  of  those  years : so 
that,  these  thirty  taken  out  of  life,  there  remain  but 
forty ; out  of  which  a third  part,  being  at  least  eight 
hours  in  the  four  and  twenty,  which  amounts  to  about 
fourteen  years  more,  must  be  deducted  for  sleep,  that 
sister  and  image  of  death ; and  then  there  remain  but 
twenty-six ; out  of  which,  when  the  requisite  allow- 
ances are  taken,  for  the  time  we  are  made  uneasy  with 
our  own  passions,  and  tormented  with  the  passions  of 
other  people  ; for  what  passes  in  sickness,  pain,  loss, 
and  affliction  ; for  what  we  consume  in  anxiety,  respect- 
ing things  that  must  inevitably  happen,  and  what  in 
anguish  for  accidents  irrecoverably  past ; for  what 
passes  in  stupid  and  insipid  amusements,  or  brown 
studies,  without  either  trouble  or  pleasure  : when  this 
is  summed  up,  I doubt,  we  shall  not  render  a much 
better  account  of  the  poor  inconsiderable  remainder  : 
it  being  generally  unprofitably  wasted  in  vice  and. 
vanity. 

XXXIV.  I suppose  men’s  passions  not  only  make 
them  miserable  in  this  world,  but  are  no  inconsiderable 
part  of  their  torment  in  hell.  For  the  body  limits  and 
restrains  the  soul ; so  that  the  flame  either  of  virtue  or 
vice  cannot  in  this  life,  blaze  to  an  excessive  degree. 
But,  when  it  is  freed  from  that  confinement,  the  pas- 
sions become  ten  thousand  times  more  furious  and 
raging,  being  let  loose  by  divine  vengeance,  to  torment 
and  rack  the  vicious  soul : as,  on  the  other  hand,  every 
virtue  is  heightened  and  increased  immeasurably,  to 
the  infinite  joy  of  the  soul  that  is  virtuous.  For,  it  is 
to  be  supposed  thafthe  inclinations,  either  to  virtue  or 
vice,  which  the  soul  has  at  its  departure  out  of  the 
body,  are  not  changed,  but  exceedingly  augmented  and 


206  DEVOUT  IM^EDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

strengthened  after  its  separation.  It  is  highly  neces- 
sary, therefore,  to  endue  the  soul  with  an  habitual 
virtue,  before  it  passes  into  eternity,  where  habits  are 
not  altered,  but  improved. 

XXXV.  The  soul  agitated  with  passions,  fares  like 
a weak  bird  in  a stormy  day.  She  is  not  able  to  make 
a straight  flight,  but  is  tossed  from  the  track  she  would 
pursue,  being  lost  and  carried  in  the  air  at  the  pleasure 
of  the  winds.  In  this  condition  is  the  soul ; till,  by  a 
constant  meditation  upon  the  great  God,  and  applica- 
tion to  Him,  it  has  obtained  a strong  and  vigorous  faith 
to  ballast  and  strengthen  it,  and  enable  it  to  maintain 
the  straight  and  steady  course  of  virtue. ‘ 

XXXVI.  Reputation  and  praise  may  be  useful  sup- 
ports to  a weak  virtue  ; but  when  it  becomes  strong  it 
must  cast  them  away,  with  the  same  indignation  and 
disdain  that  a child  does  his  leading-strings,  when  he  has 
strength  enough  to  walk  without  them. 

XXXVII.  It  is  a contradiction  to  imagine,  that  repu- 
tation or  praise  is  a suitable  recompence  for  virtue. — 
This  is  a reward  which  nothing  but  vanity  can  make 
acceptable  : it  declares  a man  both  foolish  and  vicious 
who  can  be  pleased  and  satisfied  with  it ; and  it  proves 
that  his  supposed  merit  is  owing  only  to  his  pride.  True 
virtue,  as  it  has  no  other  aim  than  the  service  and  ho- 
nor of  the  great  God,  so  the  least  and  only  recompence 
to  which  it  aspires,  is  his  approbation  and  favor. 

XXXVIII.  It  gives  a greatness  of  soul,  truly  noble,  to 
a virtuous  man,  to  consider  how  honorable  he  is  made, 
by  his  being  the  servant  of  so  great  and  glorious  a mas- 
ter. With  what  generous  thoughts,  what  firm  and  grace- 
ful confidence,  does  the  assurance  of  His  favor  and  love 
inspire  him  ! How  much  does  he  disdain  to  increase 
the  gaudy  slavish  crowd,  that  so  assiduously  attend  the 
levees  of  poor  frail  princes,  whose  beings  are  no  better 
than  his  own  ! With  how  much  indignation  does  he 
despise  a fawning  courtship,  and  attendance  upon  inso- 
lent and  vicious  favorites,  scorning  to  pay  such  homage 
to  vice  ! How  contemptible  do  the  vain  interests  and 
pursuits,  hopes  and  fears,  desires  and  aversions,  that  so 
much  busy  and  disturb  the  world,  a|5pear  to  him,  who  has 


i See  Jeremy  Taylor.  Return  of  Prayers  ; serm.  v.  p.  33. — Ed. 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  207 

his  soul  enlightened  and  enlarged  with  the  love  of  its 
great  Creator,  and  merciful  Redeemer  ! 

XXXIX.  It  is  wonderful  to  consider  how  vast  a pro- 
gress the  ancient  philosophers  made  in  virtue,  apparent- 
ly by  the  help  of  natural  reason  only.  Many  of  them, 
indeed,  were  not  ignorant  of  the  inability  of  human  rea- 
son, singly,  to  make  men  virtuous ; but  were  conscious 
of  the  necessity  of  divine  assistance,  in  order  to  so  great 
a performance.  And  I make  no  question,  but  many  of 
them  had  that  assistance  to  the  consummation  of  their 
own  virtue.  It  is  astonishing  to  reflect  upon  the  strength 
of  their  faith,  both  as  to  the  existence  of  a deity,  and  the 
immortality  of  the  soul  ; and  what  surprising  effects  it 
had  upon  them,  in  rendering  their  lives  highly  virtuous, 
in  begetting  in  them  the  utmost  contempt  of  the  world, 
and  the  most  profound  reverence  and  adoration  of  God. 
With  how  much  bravery  and  courage,  in  those  cloudy 
times,  without  the  help  and  direction  of  that  compass  of 
revelation  which  we  enjoy,  did  those  bold  and  generous 
navigators  sail  in  the  wide  and  vast  sea  of  virtue  ! 
What  great  ana  usetul  discoveries  did  they  there  make  ? 
What  rich  mines  did  they  lay  open  to  the  world,  if  men 
had  but  possessed  industry  enough  to  have  wrought 
them,  and  wisdom  sufiicient  to  have  exhausted  their 
treasures  ! But,  O merciful  God  ! how  much  greater 
and  plainer  discoveries  hast  thou  in  thine  infinite  good- 
ness, been  pleased  to  reveal  to  mankind,  by  the  example 
and  doctrine  of  the  blessed  Jesus  ; who  has  brought  life 
and  immortality  out  of  thick  clouds  and  darkness,  not 
only  into  a clearer  and  brighter,  that  were  to  say  too 
little,  but  into  an  open  and  manifest  light ! Whose  Gos- 
pel is  a system  of  so  refined  a philosophy,  so  exalted  a 
wisdom,  and  the  divine  characters  that  shjne  in  it  are 
so  conspicuously  legible,  that  nothing  can  hinder  us  from 
reading  them  but  the  darkest  ignorance  and  blackest 
corruption.  From  both  which,  I beseech  thee,  O bless- 
ed Saviour  ! to  deliver  me  ; imploring,  that  thou  wilt  be 
pleased  to  endue  me  with  the  same  blessed  Spirit  of 
eternal  truth,  by  whom  thy  holy  word  was  dictated  to 
thy  disciples  ; that,  by  the  assistance  of  that  Spirit  in 
reading,  I may  understand  thy  word  ; and,  by  under- 
standing, may  evermore  delight  in  it,  and  conform  my 
life  entirely  to  its  precepts. 


20S  BEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

XL.  Most  great  and  glorious  God,  who  hast  appoint- 
ed the  rivers  to  hasten  with  a rapid  motion  to  the  sea, 
be  graciously  pleased,  I most  humbly  beseech  thee,  to 
make  the  stream  of  my  will  perpetually  to  flow  with  a 
cheerful  and  impetuous  course,  bearing  down  pleasure, 
interest,  afflictions,  death,  and  all  other  obstacles  and 
impediments  whatsoever,  before  it,  till  it  plunge  itself 
joyfully  into  the  unfathomable  ocean  of  thy  divine  will, 
for  the  sake  of  thy  beloved  son,  my  Saviour,  Jesus 
Christ.  Amen ! 

XLI.  This  may  be  laid  down  as  a general  maxim, 
that  whosoever  is  not  sincere  to  man,  can  never  be  sin- 
cere to  God  ; nor  can  he  that  is  insincere  to  God,  be 
ever  sincere  to  man ; for  without  sincerity  there  can  be 
no  virtue,  either  moral  or  divine. 

XLII.  The  original  and  progress  of  virtue  seems  to 
me  to  be  this  : God,  in  the  first  place,  gives  grace  to  man, 
which  grace  produces  faith,  faith  wisdom,  and  wisdom 
virtue.  Grace  enlightens  the  soul,  and  makes  the  ob- 
jects of  faith  visible  to  it ; faith  having  the  prospect  of 
felicity  in  view,  necessarily  begets  wisdom,  or  a most 
earnest  desire,  and  most  prudent  prosecution  of  that  fe- 
licity ; the  consequence  of  which  is  virtue,  or  a suitable 
conduct  of  our  lives,  for  the  attainment  of  the  same  end. 
But  there  is  another  sort  of  faith,  of  a wretched  kind, 
which  may  arise  in  the  soul  of  vicious  men  at  the  ap- 
proach of  death.  For,  the  deluding  scene  of  the  plea- 
sures and  vanities  of  this  world  being  withdrawn,  a new 
and  real  world  wall  discover  itself  to  them  ; they  must 
then  have  faith  ; their  eyes  can  no  longer  then  be  kept 
shut ; they  must  then  be  convinced  that  there  is  a God, 
from  whose  glorious  presence  they  must  for  ever  be 
excluded  ; heaven  never  to  be  enjoyed,  and  a hell  not 
to  be  avoided.  As  to  the  mercies  of  God  to  sinners,  I 
desire  to  have  as  enlarged  notions  of  them  as  may  be 
consistent  with  reason ; having  abundant  need  of  them, 
and  humbly  imploring  them  for  my  own  salvation.  I 
make  no  doubt,  that  repentance  and  conversion  may  be, 
and  sometimes  are,  wrought  by  God  Almighty,  in  a 
moment ; and  He,  that  sees  its  sincerity,  may  without 
further  proof  be  pleased  to  accept  it.  But  it  is  an  intoler- 
able presumption  for  any  one  to  expect  and  depend  upon 
such  a favor ; besides,  that  he  w ho  has  this  sudden  and 


HOW.]  BEVOUI!'  MEDltATlONS.  209 

late  sincerity,  cannot  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  it 
himself,  having  no  time  to  make  any  convincing  trial  of 
it ; but  must  lie  under  extraordinary  doubts,  whether  it 
be  real  or  not,  whether  it  be  the  effect  of  grace,  or  only 
the  effect  of  fear.  At  best,  it  is  infinitely  hazardous ; 
and  the  case  is  of  such  prodigious  consequence,  that  a 
wise  man,  if  possible,  would  run  no  hazard  at  all. 

XLIII.  Avarice  can  overcome  pleasure,  and  constrain 
the  covetous  man  to  abandon  it  all  the  days  of  his  life, 
for  no  other  end  than  to  heap  up  a useless  treasure. 
And  were  it  not  a shame,  should  vice  have  power  to  do 
what  virtue  cannot  perform  ? Shall  not  our  love  and  duty 
to  the  adorable  God,  so  much  as  oblige  us  to  exchange 
an  inconsiderable  pleasure  for  a vastly  great  one  ? A 
pleasure,  which,  like  a flower,  is  no  sooner  blown  than 
it  fades,  for  a joy,  which,  beginning  to  take  root  and 
blossom  here,  will  flourish  and  bear  delicious  fruit  to  all 
eternity  ? 

XLIV,  It  is  necessary  to  be  wise,  in  order  to  love 
wisdom ; to  be  good,  that  we  may  love  mercy ; and  to 
be  charitable,  that  we  may  love  bounty : for,  if  these 
things  be  wanting  in  us,  how  can  we  love  God  and  adore 
him  as  we  ought  to  do,  for  those  lovely  attributes  ? On 
the  contrary,  it  is  as  necessary  to  be  temperate,  that  we 
may  hate  intemperance;  to  be  just,  that  we  fhay  hate  in- 
justice ; to  be  humble,  that  we  may  hate  pride  ; other- 
wise how  can  we  hate  vice,  which  is  so  odious  to  God  ? 

XLV.  My  most  gracious  God,  who  hast  been  infinitely 
merciful  to  me  and  my  dear  child,  not  only  in  the  year 
past,  but  through  all  the  years  of  our  life,  be  pleased  to 
accept  my  most  unfeigned  thanks,  for  thy  innumerable 
blessings  to  us ; graciously  pardoning  the  manifold  sins 
and  infirmities  of  my  life  past,  and  bountifully  bestow- 
ing, both  upon  my  dear  child  and  myself,  all  those  graces 
and  virtues  which  may  render  us  acceptable  to  thee 
And  every  year  which  thou  shalt  be  pleased  to  add  to 
our  lives,  add  also,  I most  humbly  implore  thee,  more 
strength  to  our  faith,  more  ardor  to  our  love,  and  a 
greater  perfection  to  our  obedience ; and  grant,  that,  in 
an  humble  sincerity,  and  constant  perseverance,  we  may 
serve  thee  most  faithfully  the  remainder  of  our  lives,  for 
Jesus  Christ  his  sake,  thy  blessed  Son,  our  merciful 
Redeemer.  Amen. 

18=" 


210  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

XLVI.  Reason  must  be  careful  to  keep  all  the  affec- 
tions of  the  soul,  as  a skilful  general  does  his  soldiers, 
under  a constant  exercise  and  strict  discipline.  For  too 
much  rest  and  liberty  will  make  them  grow  licentious 
and  mutinous : and,  when  they  have  once  learned  to  be 
disobedient,  it  will  be  a difficult  task  to  reduce  them 
again  under  good  command. 

XLVII.  How  happy  is  the  soul,  to  whom  virtue  and 
vice  are  the  only  objects  of  its  desires  and  aversions. 
Which  loves  nothing  but  what  it  is  sure  to  obtain,  and 
dreads  nothing  but  what  it  is  sure  to  avoid.  Which 
rests  upon  a rock  whose  foundation  is  immoveable,  and 
leans  upon  a support  that  can  never  deceive  it.  Which 
securely  reposes  itself  upon  the  great  and  gracious  God. 
And,  unlading  itself  of  all  its  cares,  lays  them  upon 
Him,  who  so  tenderly  cares  for  us,  and  loves  us  with 
a dearer  and  much  better  love,  than  we  are  able  to  feel 
for  ourselves. 

XLVHI.  If  we  do  not  believe  God  Almighty  to  be 
infinitely  wiser  than  ourselves,  why  do  we  worship  him  ? 
If  we  do,  why  do  we  not,  with  a happy  assurance,  com- 
mit ourselves  and  all  that  belongs  to  us,  entirely  to  his 
w ill  and  disposal  ? 

XLIX.  Lively  and  elevated  ideas  of  God,  and  of 
eternal  life,  must  necessarily  create  in  us  most  despica- 
ble and  contemptible  notions  of  this  life  and  world. 
For  it  is  a notorious  contradiction  to  say,  that  our  love 
to  God  is  hearty  and  sincere,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time, 
that  we  feel  in  ourselves  a great  and  earnest  love  of  the 
world.  It  is  a natural  effect  of  love  to  create  an  ardent 
desire  to  enjoy  the  company  and  presence  of  that  which 
is  beloved.  But  vehemently  to  love  this  life  and  this 
world,  is  to  desire  to  be  as  far  distant,  and  as  long 
absent,  as  possible,  from  God,  whom  we  pretend  to  be 
the  object  of  our  love. 

L.  I am  convinced,  that  the  pleasure  of  \nrtue  has 
been,  and  ever  will  be,  a riddle  in  the  world,  as  long  as 
it  lasts.  The  meaning  of  it  has  never  been,  nor  ever 
can  be,  known  or  conceived,  but  by  those  to  whom  it 
shall  please  God,  out  of  his  infinite  goodness,  to  ex- 
pound it. 

LI.  Faith  is  the  blessed  tree  which  produces  the 
noble  and  divine  fruits  of  wisdom,  virtue,  and  true  feli- 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  211 

city.  But  it  is  of  so  fine  and  delicate  a nature,  that  it 
will  not  grow  and  thrive  in  the  cold  and  barren  soil  of 
man’s  heart,  without  his  incessant  care  and  industry, 
and  the  enlivening  influence  of  the  divine  Spirit.  O 
gracious  God,  so  cherish  and  increase,  I most  humbly 
beseech  thee,  that  small  grain  of  it,  which  thou  hast 
been  pleased  to  plant  in  my  heart,  that  it  may  spread 
and  flourish,  and  take  such  firm  root  there,  as  to  be 
able  to  defend  itself,  and  protect  me,  under  the  secure 
shelter  of  its  branches,  from  all  storms  and  tempests 
that  shall  ever  assault  either,  in  life  or  death  ! 

LII.  Man  must  consider  his  being  in  one  of  these 
two  capacities  ; either  as  liable  to  an  utter  dissolution 
by  death,  or  as  capable  of  an  eternal  continuance  after 
death,  in  happiness,  or  in  misery.  If  he  believe  the 
former,  why  does  he  ever  disturb  his  mind  with  the 
doubtful  thoughts  of  a God?  If  he  believe  the  latter, 
why  does  he  unprofitably  entertain  his  mind  with  any 
thing  else  ? 

LIII.  My  most  good  and  bountiful  God,  what  num- 
berless praises  have  I to  give  thee,  and  pardons  to  beg 
of  thee,  both  arising  from  the  employment  about  which 
I have  been,  for  some  months  past.  What  thanks  have 
I to  return  thee,  for  the  ease,  the  conveniences,  and 
comforts  of  life,  which  thou  hast  so  abundantly  be- 
stowed upon  me  ! But,  O my  gracious  Lord  I what 
fervent  addresses  ought  I to  make  to  thy  infinite  mercy, 
to  forgive  my  ingratitude  and  weakness  in  suffering  my 
thoughts  to  wander  from  thee,  and  my  affections  to  grow 
languid  toward  thee  ! How  much  time  have  I been 
impertinently  consuming  in  building  a house,  which  I 
ought  to  have  employed,  in  endeavoring  to  form  my 
mind  to  a perfect  obedience  to  thee  Pardon,  great 
God  ! I beseech  thee,  for  Jesus  Christ’s  sake,  all  my 
omissions  and  neglects,  and  my  too  often  cold  and  dis- 
tracted addresses  to  thee  ; and  grant,  that  I may  pass 
the  rest  of  my  life  in  an  uninterrupted  endeavor  to 
please  thee,  and  in  a continual  return  of  thanks  for 
this,  and  for  all  those  innumerable  blessings,  which 
thou  art  never  ceasing  to  bestow  upon  so  undeserving 
a wretch. 


k See  sections  lix.  Ixvi.  Ixxxi. — Ed. 


212  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS,  [tlOW, 

LIV.  Assurance  of  eternal  happiness,  that  sublimest 
degree,  that  finishing  stroke  of  human  felicity  in  this 
life,  is  that,  which  every  soul  pants  after  which  makes 
any  serious  reflections  in  matters  of  religion.  It  is, 
therefore,  necessary  to  know  upon  what  foundation  this 
blessed  state  is  built,  and  from  what  principles  it  arises. 
And  those,  I think,  it  is  plainly  evident,  are  faith,  love, 
and  obedience  : since  no  man  can  have  assurance,  that 
does  not  feel  in  himself  the  principle  of  obedience  ; nor 
can  he  have  obedience,  without  the  principle  of  love ; 
nor  love  without  the  principle  of  faith.  For  it  is  a 
notorious  contradiction,  to  imagine,  that  any  one  can 
be  assured  of  God  Almighty’s  pardon,  without  obey- 
ing Him  ; of  his  favor,  without  loving  Him  ; or  of  the 
eternal  enjoyment  of  his  goodness,  without  a firm  and 
steadfast  belief  in  Him.  But  I am  persuaded,  that  the 
word  faith  is  too  frequently  misunderstood,  and  taken 
for  a bare,  careless,  and  faint  assent,  to  any  truth  we 
pretend  to  believe  ; which  notion  is  not  only  deceitful 
and  false,  but  pernicious  and  destructive.  This,  there- 
fore, is  what  I mean  by  a firm  belief  in  God  ; when, 
from  intent  meditation  and  mature  reflection,  the  judg- 
ment, reason,  understanding,  and  all  the  faculties  of  the 
soul,  are  overpowered  with  an  irresistible  conviction 
of  the  necessary  existence  of  such  a Divine  Being ; 
who  is  also  represented  to  the  mind,  as  infinite  in  glory, 
in  power,  in  wisdom,  in  goodness,  and  in  all  perfection  ; 
with  such  charms,  such  beauty,  such  loveliness,  as  to 
captivate  and  ravish  the  affections  of  the  soul,  and  smite 
it  with  a divine  love.  Such  a love  as  may  possess  it  with 
an  ardent  desire  after  the  enjoyment  of  him,  with 
diligent  endeavors  to  please  him,  and  with  incessant 
strivings  to  resemble  him,  and  render  itself  amiable 
and  acceptable  to  him.  Such  a love,  as  may  reign  tri- 
umphantly in  the  soul,  engrossing  all  its  affections,  di- 
vesting all  other  objects  of  their  charms,  nay,  making 
them  appear  vile  and  contemptible  ; and  delivering  up 
the  absolute  and  entire  dominion  of  the  soul,  to  its  great 
and  glorious  Creator.  Accept,  great  God,  of  such  an 
entire  dominion  over  my  soul,  and  be  pleased  to  main- 
tain it  against  all  opposition  and  temptation  whatsoever, 
by  thy  infinite  power,  evermore  1 
LV.  The  next  thing  necessary  to  be  seriously  and 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  213 

impartially  considered  relating  to  faith,  is  what  mea- 
sures and  degrees  of  it  we  have.  For,  since  our  eternal 
happiness  depends  upon  our  being  possessed  of  this 
virtue,  we  cannot  make  too  nice  and  diligent  inquiries, 
what  proportion  of  it  we  feel  in  ourselves.  And  to 
that  end,  we  are  to  consider,  whether  there  be  any 
thing  that  we  fear,  or  love,  more  than  God  ; whether 
his  favor  be  the  centre,  to  which  all  our  aims,  designs, 
and  desires  tend  : whether  his  displeasure  is  the  evil 
which  we  most  carefully  and  solicitously  strive  to  avoid  ; 
whether  our  chief  study  be,  to  know  his  divine  will, 
and*  our  constant  labor,  or  rather  delight,  to  perform 
it ; whether  any  temptation,  either  of  pleasure  or  gain, 
be  capable  of  moving  us  to  do  an  ill  action  ; or  whether 
the  fear  of  any  loss  or  mischief,  either  to  our  persons 
or  estates,  be  capable  of  deterring  us  from  perseverance 
in  good  ones : for,  if  we  value  estate,  reputation,  or 
life,  more  than  we  hate  sin  and  vice,  and  would  be  in^ 
duced  to  commit  the  latter,  to  save  any  of  the  former, 
it  is  demonstrable,  that  we  fear  the  loss  of  those  things, 

more  than  we  foar  Gon.  And,  if  we.  find  oiirscives 

capable  of  being  tempted  and  allured,  either  by  plea- 
sure or  profit,  to  do  an  unjust  or  vicious  action,  it  is  as 
plain,  that  we  love  those  things  more  than  we  love 
Him  ; and  that  the  consideration  of  His  favor  and  dis- 
pleasure prevails  upon  us,  then  only,  when  nothing  else 
comes  in  competition  with  them.  But,  if  we  find  that 
we  reject  many  things,  which  otherwise  we  should 
choose  ; that  we  despise  many  things,  which  otherwise 
we  should  value  ; that  we  refrain  from  many  actions, 
which  otherwise  we  should  have  committed  ; and  da 
many  others,  which  else  we  should  have  avoided  ; and 
all  this,  only  in  regard  to  the  favor  or  displeasure  of 
God, — it  is  evident  that  we  are  actuated  by  the  influence 
of  a true  and  vigorous  faith.  Which  grant,  most  gra- 
cious God,  to  me  thy  poor  unworthy  servant,  in  the 
most  perfect  manner  of  which  my  frail  nature  is  capa- 
ble ; pardoning  in  me  all  the  defects  of  it  hitherto,  for 
Jesus  Christ’s  sake  ! 

LVI.  Duty  and  happiness  are  so  closely  linked  toge- 
ther, that  the  performance  of  the  one,  naturally  draws 
the  other  after  it.  For,  as  it  is  our  duty  gratefully  to 
adore  the  great  God  for  all  his  blessings,  and  content’ 


314  DEVOtT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

edly  to  submit  to  all  his  dispensations ; so  it  is  a plea- 
sure to  be  grateful  and  contented : but  he  that  is  dis- 
contented can  never  be  grateful ; nor  he  that  is  con- 
tented, miserable.  Blessed  be  the  most  bountiful  God, 
who  has  annexed  an  unspeakable  pleasure  to  faith  and 
virtue ; who  has,  in  his  infinite  goodness,  made  those 
things  that  are  of  the  highest  advantage  to  mankind,  so 
exceedingly  delightful ! 

LVIL  Such  is  the  weakness  and  imperfection  of  bare 
human  nature,  supported  only  by  its  own  force,  that  it  is 
capable  of  conducting  us  but  rarely  to  truth ; though  it 
frequently  I'eads  us  to  innumerable  errors.  A remarka- 
ble instance  of  this,  is  the  opinion  of  that  learned  and 
great  philosopher,  Aristotle,  that  the  world  and  race  of 
man  were  eternal ; than  which  nothing  was  more  inju- 
diciously imagined  ; nor  was  there  ever  a greater  con- 
tradiction advanced,  nor  more  repugnant  to  common 
sense.  The  falsity  of  the  notion  plainly  appears  from 
this  consideration,  without  recurring  to  revelation  to 
confute  it : if  there  were  an  eternal  succession  of  men, 
We  must,  onr  thoiigtits,  trarp  thic  ©tornity  np  from  one 

man  to  another,  till  we  arrive  at  that  man  who  was  the 
first  possessor  of  it ; since  it  is  plain,  from  the  nature  of 
succession,  that  there  must  have  been  a first ; and  who- 
soever that  first  was,  w^ho  was  the  possessor  of  eternal 
life,  we  must  necessarily  conceive  to  be  likewise  pos- 
sessed of  eternal  power  ; and,  being  eternal  without  be- 
ginning, he  must  infalliably  continue  eternal  without 
end  ; which  naturally  leads  us  to  the  conception  of  a 
being  vastly  different  from  man.  So  that  this  wild  in- 
coherent notion  of  the  eternity  of  mankind,  shows  us 
plainly  how  glimmering  a light  the  clearest  human  rea- 
son gives,  and  how  much  we  stand  in  need  of  brighter 
illuminations.  But,  though  life  in  man  has  so  short  a 
period,  w^e  cannot  but  conceive  it  to  be  somewhere  eter- 
nal. For,  if  we  could  possibly  imagine  a time  when  no 
being  had  life,  it  is,  I think,  impossible  to  conceive  how 
any  being  could  ever  have  begun  to  live.  For  it  is  evi- 
dent, that  life  having  annexed  to  it  a measure  of  power, 
must,  consequently,  be  the  work  and  product  of  power. 
And,  in  supposing  a lime  when  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  life,  we  suppose  a time  when  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
power,  since  there  can  be  no  power  without  life.  And, 


MOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  215 

consequently,  it  were  impossible  that  life  could  have  had 
any  where  a beginning:  from  whence  it  follows,  that  life, 
in  some  one  being,  is  eternal,  and,  from  that  inexhaustible 
fountain,  has  been  conveyed  and  bestowed  to  all  creatures 
that  have  ever  possessed  it.  And  that  eternal  fountain  of 
life  is  God  : who  is,  also,  the  sole  fountain  of  wisdom,  of 
power,  of  happiness,  and  of  all  goodness  ; and  who,  out 
of  his  infinite  bounty,  dispenses  to  all  his  creatures  such 
proportions  of  these  several  blessings  as  he  thinks  fit ; 
each  of  them  being  totally  and  entirely  comprehended 
in  his  own  blessed  being  ; whom  my  soul  most  humbly 
adores,  and  to  whom  it  desires  faithfully  to  render  all 
honor,  praise,  and  dutiful  obedience,  evermore. 

LVIIL  Man  is  of  such  a base  and  perverse  disposi- 
tion that  he  is  seldom  prevailed  upon  by  mildness  and 
goodness  ; but  is  restive  and  obstinate,  like  an  untamed 
horse,  contending  against  the  fixed  methods  of  God’s 
providence  in  the  world.  His  mind  seldom  submits  to 
reason,  but  must  be  mastered  and  broken  by  rough 
usage  and  affliction,  till  he  is  sensible  of  his  own  weak- 
ness and  inability  to  contend  against  almighty  power. 
Were  man’s  reason  more  strong,  or  his  pride  less  pow- 
erful, he  would  never  be  pushed  on  to  so  dangerous  an 
experiment. 

LIX.  There  is  no  less  necessity  of  the  mind’s  being 
fixed  and  steady,  in  order  to  its  right  direction  to  the 
subject  of  its  consideration,  than  of  the  hand’s  being 
firm  and  unshaken,  that  it  may  surely  hit  the  mark  at 
which  it  aims.  For,  when  the  mind  is  pointing  at  a 
subject,  if  it  has  not  firmness  enough  to  keep  itself  fixed 
upon  it,  every  light  thought  or  imagination  is  capable  of 
pushing  it  beside  the  mark,  and  making  it  lose  its  aim. 
And,  being  thus  unstable  and  uncertain,  it  is  like  a weak 
bird  in  a strong  tempest,  that  has  neither  force  nor 
weight  sufficient  to  keep  a direct  course,  but  is  carried 
by  the  violence  of  the  storm  beside  the  place  where  it 
endeavors  to  settle.  In  this  condition  is  the  mind, 
when  capable  of  being  hurried  from  the  subject  of  its 
contemplation  by  every  gust  of  passion.  And,  though 
it  has  reason  in  view,  it  wants  force  to  bear  up  to  it,  and 
ballast  sufficient  to  resist  the  fierce  assaults  of  its  unruly 
affections,  which  keep  it  in  a continual  wavering  course, 
and  hinder  it  from  arriving  at  security  and  repose. 


216  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

The  greatest  concern,  therefore,  which  a man  has,  is  to 
labor  to  gain  such  a steadiness  of  mind,  such  a method 
of  reasonable  thinking,  as  may  not  be  capable  of  any 
interruption.  And,  when  this  is  obtained,  the  next  care  * 
must  be,  with  the  utmost  diligence,  to  preserve  the  mind 
in  this  happy  state.  And,  to  this  end,  we  must  not  be 
less  watchful  over  innocent,  than  over  vicious  recrea- 
tions ; and  must  take  care  that  an  undue  eagerness  in  the 
one  does  not  amuse  and  lead  us  insensibly  to  the  other. 
For  the  thoughts  being  once  unfixed,  it  is  not  so  easy 
a matter  to  settle  them  again ; and  the  affections  being 
by  degrees  disengaged  from  their  true  and  proper  ob- 
jects, will  be  in  danger  of  betaking  themselves  to  false 
and  trifling  ones  : nay,  it  is  well,  being  once  upon  the 
wing,  if  they  stop  on  this  side  folly  and  vice ; the  first 
step  toward  each  of  which,  is  a coolness  and  indiffer- 
ence to  wisdom  and  virtue.  Now,  such  a case  is  not  the 
less  deplorable,  because  innocent  diversions  were  its  oc- 
casion : and,  indeed,  I doubt  no  diversions  can  properly 
be  called  innocent,  which  have  that  fatal  efiect.  Be- 
sides, by  disuse  the  mind  as  well  as  the  body  contracts 
sluggishness  and  impotence  : so  that,  when  it  is  brought 
to  exercise,  and  we  endeavor  to  turn  it  to  reasonable 
thoughts,  it  appears  that  it  has  not  only  lost  its  vigor, 
but  its  pleasure  also  ; since  the  pleasure  of  wisdom  and 
virtue,  which  are  the  result  of  right  reason,  depends  upon 
the  vigorous  impressions  made  by  them  upon  the  mind. 
So  that,  it  is  impossible  that  a languid  soul  can  ever  be 
a happy  one,  any  more  than  a wavering  soul,  doubtfully 
hovering  between  virtue  and  vice.  I am  but  too  sensi- 
ble, how  ill  an  effect  idle  and  impertinent  cares  and 
amusements,  though  very  innocent  ones,  by  some  con- 
tinuance and  frequent  repetitions,  have  upon  the  mind. 

I had  hopes  when  I began  to  build  my  house,  that  I was 
pretty  w^ell  prepared  against  this  danger ; being  very 
well  aware  of  it,  and,  as  carefully  as  I could,  endeavor- 
ing to  prevent  it.  But  I found,  to  my  great  dissatis- 
faction and  trouble,  that  those  necessary  cares  and  con- 
trivances with  which  I was  obliged  to  fill  my  head,  were 
so  great  a prejudice  and  incumbrance  to  my  mind,  that 
I had  neither  liberty  nor  power,  however  zealous  my 
efforts,  to  penetrate  far  into  those  thoughts  and  reason- 
ings, which  I passionately  desired,  and  after  which  I 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  217 

often  earnestly  labored ; thoughts  and  reasonings,  of 
which  I would  rather  be  continually  master,  than  of  all 
the  houses  and  kingdoms  upon  earth.  My  soul  was 
clogged,  and  grown  too  heavy  to  soar  above  the  reach 
of  low  insipid  conceptions  ; its  springs  seemed  relaxed, 
and  incapable  of  pushing  it  to  vigorous  imaginations ; 
all  its  bright  ideas  were  clouded ; it  grieved  and  lan- 
guished, to  think  from  whence  it  was  fallen  ; and  it 
dreaded  the  misery  of  sinking  yet  lower.  It  mourned, 
and  was  ashamed  to  stoop  to  those  fairy  delusions,  those 
shadows  of  pleasures,  which  the  world  affords,  and 
which  it  could  not  forbear  to  despise  ; though  it  had  not 
force  to  reach  its  wonted  joys,  by  bearing  itself  up  to 
lively  meditations,  full  of  love  and  adoration  to  its  great 
Creator.  By  this,  my  ever  gracious  God,  thou  hast 
taught  me,  that  thou  being  the  only  fountain  of  true  joy 
and  felicity,  every  step  I advance  toward  thee,  the 
nearer  I approach  my  happiness  ; and  every  degree  I 
depart  from  thee,  the  more  I hasten  toward  my  misery. 
O be  thou  mercifully  pleased  to  guard  and  protect  my 
faith,  that  neither  the  open  force  of  the  most  violent 
temptations  may  be  able  to  shake  it,  nor  the  insinuating 
allurements  of  innocent  diversions,^  by  gentle  unsus- 
pected impressions,  to  undermine  it ; but  keep  me,  per- 
petually and  firmly  adhering  to  thee,  constantly  perse- 
vering, to  the  last  moments  of  my  life,  in  all  those 
things  which  are  pleasing  and  acceptable  in  thy  siffht, 
for  Jesus  Christ’s  sake,  my  ever  blessed  Redeemer  : 

A peaceful  life  all  other  ways  you  ’ll  miss  ; 

Through  virtue  lies  the  only  path  to  bliss ! 

LX.  The  first  two  things  to  be  sought  after,  in  order 
to  the  acquiring  of  a settled  calmness  and  undisturbed 
pleasure  of  mind,  are  a constant  and  fervent  love  of  the 
adorable  God,  and  a real  and  entire  contempt  of  the 
world.  Now,  the  love  of  God  will  certainly  dow  from 
a frequent  and  serious  contemplation  of  his  continual 
and  unspeakable  goodness;  as  the  contempt  of  the 
world  will  undoubtedly  ensue  from  a reasonable  and 


1 It  was  a favorite  saying  of  the  great  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  that 
^perimus  liciiis  f — ‘We  perish  by  [the  abuse  of]  things  allowable.’ 
—Ed. 


19 


218  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

impartial  consideration  of  its  worthlessness.  These  I 
look  upon  as  the  necessary  foundation,  upon  which 
alone  may  be  built  that  noble,  beautiful,  and  desirable 
structure  of  an  intrepid,  virtuous,  and  peaceful  mind  : 
the  only  valuable  treasure  upon  earth ; and  that  alone, 
of  which  we  may  be  innocently  covetous  ; a dominion 
more  glorious,  than  all  the  empires  of  the  world  ; in  the 
pursuit  after  which  alone,  ambition  is  justifiable.  O my 
God,  possess  my  soul  with  such  an  ardent  love  of  thee, 
so  buoyant  above  all  my  other  affections,  that  no  one 
may  ever  come  in  competition  with  it ; such  a love,  as 
may  not  only  subdue  all  other  affections,  but  purify  and 
make  them  innocent ; such  a love,  as  may  create  in  my 
soul  a perpetual  pleasure  in  the  contemplation  of  thee, 
and  a continual  thirst  after  thee,  never  to  be  quenched 
but  by  the  fullness  of  enjoyment;  a love,  which  may 
transport  my  soul  with  thy  divine  perfections,  and  paint 
there  such  lively  images,  such  bright  ideas  of  thy  glori- 
ous majesty,  that  none  of  the  trifling  pleasures  and 
temptations  of  this  world,  may  be  able  to  make  on  it  the 
least  impression.  And  as,  my  gracious  Lord,  thou  hast 
given  me  much,  and  forgiven  me  much,  so  raise  my 
love  to  a degree  proportionable  to  thy  bounty  and 
mercy  !*" 

LXI.  Death  is  said  to  be  the  king  of  terrors.  These 
words  I suppose  are  usually  misunderstood ; they  are 
not,  in  Scripture,  meant  of  a natural  death,  as  it  is  only 
the  separation  of  soul  and  body,  but  must  be  understood 
of  damnation,  that  eternal  death,  which  is,  most  pro- 
perly, though  not  emphatically  enough,  if  words  were 
to  be  found  to  heighten  the  expression,  termed  the  king 
of  terrors,  as  being  the  eternal  separation  of  the  soul 
from  God — its  everlasting  exclusion  from  any  portion  of 
felicity.  And  I think  it  is  evident  it  ought  to  be  taken 
in  this  sense  ; for  a man  who  has  either  led  a virtuous 
or  innocent  life,  or  who,  having  done  otherwise,  truly 
and  sincerely  repents,  resolving  upon  a perfect  and  uni- 
versal obedience  to  his  God  for  the  future ; who  is  con- 
scious to  himself  of  no  wilful  breach  of  his  resolution, 


™ ‘ Semel  ercro,  breve  prJEceptum  tibi  prsecipitur ; dilige,  et  ruod 
VIS  FAC.  Radix  sit  intus  dilectionis,  non  potest  de  ista  radice  nisi  bo- 
num  existere.’— S.  August,  tom.  iii.  p.  875.— Ed. 


219 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 

but  continually  begs  pardon  for  such  failings  and  infirmi- 
ties as  he  cannot  either  discover  or  avoid  ; who  unfeign- 
edly  abhors  those  follies  and  vanities,  which  he  fancied 
so  much  pleasure  in  before,  placing  his  greatest  delight 
in  love  and  obedience  to  God  ; who  looks  upon  his 
being  as  made  for  another  world,  not  for  this ; and  who 
can,  with  the  piercing  eye  of  faith,  cast  frequent,  though 
imperfect  glances  thither,  and  make  such  discoveries  of 
the  glories  of  heaven,  as  to  inflame  his  soul  with  an  earn- 
est desire  to  enjoy  them ; — such  a one  must  needs  be- 
hold death  with  a wishing  eye  ; it  will  appear  to  him  no 
otherwise,  than  as  that  which  opens  the  door  to  his  li- 
berty and  happiness,  and  lets  him  into  those  joys  for 
which  he  has  so  greatly  longed  : he  would  behold  death 
approaching  with  the  same  pleasure  that  a man  cast 
upon  a desert  island  would  see  a ship  sailing  to  his 
relief;  he  would  run  eagerly  to  the  shore,  and  embark 
with  delight. 

LXII.  It  is  not  amiss,  in  the  matter  of  behefits  re- 
ceived, to  consider  how  easily  and  almost  naturally  the 
love  of  corrupt,  ungrateful  man,  passes  from  the  giver 
to  the  gift,  and,  only  glancing  upon  the  former,  fixes 
itself  on  the  latter.  And  this  being  remarkably  notori- 
ous in  the  case  of  benefits  received  from  Almighty 
God,  it  concerns  us  to  consider  well  what  we  receive, 
and  how  much  we  pay ; that  we  may  know  whether  our 
payments  in  love,  duty,  and  adoration,  bear  any  tolerable 
proportion  to  what  we  owe,  and  what  we  have  received, 
in  real  benefits ; whether  our  love  to  God  be  pure  and 
sincere,  or  only  mercenary  and  interested  ; whether  it 
flows  from  those  infinite  perfections  that  render  him 
truly  amiable,  or  proceeds  only  from  our  value  of  the 
things  which  he  bestows.  If  the  last  be  the  case,  then, 
to  speak  plainly,  we  must  confess  that  we  love  God  a 
little,  because  he  gives  us  those  things  which  we  love  a 
great  deal ; and,  I doubt,  it  may  too  often  be  added, 
much  better  than  himself.  For,  if  our  love  of  him  be 
grounded  upon  our  love  for  the  things  which  he  gives 
us,  it  is  demonstrable  that  v/e  loved  those  things  not 
only  before,  but  better  than  him ; and  that  our  love  to 
him  was  kindled,  not  by  his  own  excellence,  but  by  the 
excellence  we  fancied  in  his  gifts.  Now,  if  those  things 
have  no  intrinsic  value  in  them,  nor  have  any  just 


220  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

title  to  our  affection,  and  yet  rob  God  of  it,  to  whom  it 
so  justly  belongs,  I fear  such  a love  can  hardly  be  cleared 
from  being  in  some  measure  idolatrous.  But  there  are 
gifts  that  have  a real  value  in  themselves,  such  as  faith, 
wisdom,  virtue,  &c.;  the  love  of  these  will  increase  our 
love  to  God  : in  these,  we  need  not  fear  loving  the  gift 
more  than  the  giver,  since  it  is  by  the  love  of  these 
excellences  only  that  we  can  arrive  at  the  love  of  God  ; 
for  faith  gives  us  true  notions  and  apprehensions  of  him; 
wisdom  leads  us  to  the  knowledge  of  him ; and  virtue, 
to  the  obedience  of  him.  And  the  same  may  be  shown 
from  every  other  grace  or  virtue.  In  loving  truth,  jus- 
tice, bounty,  &c.,  we  actually  love  God  ; for  these  vir- 
tues are  a part  of  his  essence,  and  inseparable  from  it, 
not  belonging  properly  to  any  other,  but  exclusively 
his  own:  no  portion  or  degree  of  any  of  them  reside  in 
any  other  being,  otherwise  than  by  a gracious  communi- 
cation of  them  by  God,  from  their  several  originals  re- 
maining entire  and  complete  in  himself.  From  whom 
I humbly  beg  continual  supplies,  and  increase  of  all 
graces  and  virtues,  through  his  infinite  bounty  and 
compassion. 

LXIII.  Pleasure  results  from  an  impetuous  motion 
of  the  united  affections  in  the  prosecution,  expectation, 
or  enjoyment  of  some  good,  or  at  least,  of  what  we  take 
to  be  *such.  But  even  in  sensual  pleasures,  it  is  more 
in  the  expectation  than  in  the  enjoyment.  For  the 
share  which  the  body  has  in  pleasure  is  very  inconsi- 
derable, the  much  greater  part,  either  of  pleasure  or 
pain,  being  lodged  in  the  mind,  and  felt  there  ; though 
the  body  is  capable  of  a greater  and  more  lasting  per- 
ception of  pain  thaji  it  is  of  pleasure.  Now,  to  be  sen- 
sible of  this  truth,  we  have  but  to  consider  some  one  of 
the  most  sensual  pleasures,  that  of  gluttony,  for  instance ; 
and  it  is  the  same  of  all  the  rest.  This,  at  first,  may 
appear  to  be  entirely  the  enjoyment  of  the  body,  though 
that  bears  a very  small  share  in  it ; for  it  lasts  no  longer 
than  the  meat  is  going  down,  and  tasted  upon  the 
palate.  The  chief  of  this  pleasure  is  in  the  fancy  and 
imagination;  in  the  earnest  longings  after  it,  and  ex- 
pectation of  it,  before  it  is  really  tasted ; so  that  the 
participation  of  any  sensual  pleasure  is,  properly,  rather 
the  cessation  of  pleasure  than  the  enjoyment  of  it ; since 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  221 

enjoyment  extinguishes  that  principal  part  of  pleasure 
which  was  tasted  in  the  mind,  by  the  help  of  fancy  and 
imagination. 

LXIV.  A great  part  of  wisdom  consists  in  knowing 
how  to  make  a right  estimate  of  things.  For  our  affec- 
tion and  aversion  always  attend  upon  our  esteem  and 
disesteem  ; and  if  these  be  built  upon  a false  foundation, 
the  affection  and  aversion  will  be  fixed  upon  wrong 
objects.  So  that  we  shall  either  love  what  we  ought  to 
hate,  and  hate  what  we  ought  to  love ; or  at  least,  our 
love  and  hatred  will  exceed  their  due  bounds,  with  re- 
spect to  the  value  of  the  different  objects  upon  which 
they  are  placed.  Happiness  and  misery  are  things, 
the  one  of  which  is  most  earnestly  coveted,  the  other 
most  carefully  avoided,  by  all  mankind.  But  how  can 
a man  with  any  judgment  set  himself  to  procure  happi- 
ness and  escape  misery,  unless  he  has  first  the  know- 
ledge of  those  good  and  evil  things  which  conduce 
severally  to  them  ; for  we  must  call  every  thing  good 
that  contributes  to  our  happiness,  and  every  thing 
evil  that  procures  our  misery.  Ignorance  and  mistake 
are  fatal,  in  the  choice  of  good  and  evil ; wherefore,  it 
behoves  every  man  to  be  able  to  discern  between  the 
one  and  the  other,  no  less  than  it  behoves  a physician 
to  distinguish  wholesome  herbs  from  poisonous  plants; 
lest,  where  he  designs  a remedy,  he  should  administer 
destruction.  If  men  are  ignorant  what  are  the  ingre- 
dients that  enter  into  the  composition  of  happiness 
and  misery,  or  if  they  are  mistaken  in  the  choice  of 
those  ingredients,  they  will  be  wretched  enough  to 
choose  the  contrary  of  what  they  seek  after.  Is  it  rea- 
sonable to  imagine,  that  care  and  skill  are  necessary  for 
the  acquisition  of  every  trifle  upon  which  we  ignorantly 
set  a value  ; as  riches,  and  honor,  and  all  those  sciences, 
by  the  means  of  which  we  hope  to  reach  any  of  these 
attainments ; and  yet,  that  true  and  substantial  happi- 
ness, which  is  the  perfection  of  our  being,  comes  by 
chance,  without  being  sought  after  ? Can  man  be  vain 
enough  to  imagine  that  the  mind  can  be  furnished  with 
just  and  true  notions,  without  ever  taking  the  pains  to 
think ; with  lofty  and  generous  conceptions,  without  giv- 
ing itself  the  trouble  to  meditate  and  reflect  ? That  it 
can,  to  the  utmost  of  its  power,  fathom  the  depths  of  the 


222  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

knowledge  of  God  and  itself,  without  an  unwearied 
diligence  and  constant  application  ? And  finally,  that, 
having  by  such  means  ascended  to  a high  degree  of 
felicity,  it  can  be  able  to  maintain  its  station,  without 
industry  and  assiduity  ? 

LXV.  We  are  not  only  miserable  enough  to  be  go- 
verned by  our  passions,  but  foolish  enough  to  repine  and 
murmur,  that  God  Almighty  will  not  submit  to  be  go- 
verned by  them  too.  This  is  the  cause  of  our  so  frequent 
quarrels  at  his  pleasure,  in  ordering  and  disposing  the 
affairs  of  the  world ; and  of  our  uneasiness,  in  vainly 
contending  with  his  unchangeable  decrees,  which  are 
unchangeable  therefore,  only  because  they  are  the  result 
of  His  infinite  unerring  wisdom  ; all  whose  determina- 
tions, as  they  are  best  in  themselves,  so,  doubtless,  are 
they  the  most  beneficial  to  his  poor  creatures.  What 
we  want,  is  simply  confidence  enough  to  rely  entirely 
on  His  mercy  ; this  is  the  one  ground  of  reliance,  which 
will  never  disappoint  us. 

LXVI.  How  many  irretrievable  inconveniences  do 
ipen  fall  into,  purely  from  the  fickleness  and  continual 
mutability  of  their  dispositions.  It  were  good,  there- 
fore, thoroughly  to  understand  ourselves,  in  order  to 
prevent  the  miseries  accruing  from  this  cause.  We 
think,  perhaps,  this  instant,  that  such  a thing  would 
please  lis,  and  make  us  happy  ; accordingly  we  apply 
our  utmost  diligence,  sparing  no  pains  to  procure  it : and 
it  is  ten  to  one,  by  that  time  we  have  it,  our  humor  is 
altered,  our  labor  lost,  and  all  our  expectations  of  hap- 
piness frustrated.  Then  our  inconstant  fancy  pitches 
upon  some  other  object,  persuading  us  it  is  that  which 
will  give  us  content ; this  also  obtained,  from  the  same 
cause  disappoints  us  as  much  as  the  former ; and  not 
pleasing  us,  the  consequence  is,, that  we  grow  weary  and 
disgusted  ; and  it  is  well,  if  we  have  it  in  our  power  conve- 
niently to  get  rid  of  it,  when  we  think  fit : for  a thousand 
instances  may  be  given,  of  cases  where  a mistake  in  the 
satisfaction  which  we  propose  to  ourselves,  proves  vastly 
prejudicial,  and  often  causes  the  misery  of  our  whole  lives. 
How  frequently  are  young  people  ruined,  and  elder  ones 
unfortunate,  upon  this  very  account  ? Imagining  that 
the  warmth  of  their  present  temper  will  continue,  and 
procure  them  satisfaction,  in  despite  of  all  the  inconve- 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  223 

niences  which  may  attend  its  gratification.  But  that  ea- 
gerness unexpectedly  relaxes,  they  are  left  in  the  lurch, 
defrauded  of  their  happiness,  and  loaded  with  vexation. 
Thus,  unhappy  man  turns  restlessly  from  one  thing  to 
another,  hoping  by  change  to  find  relief ; and  never  re- 
flects that  the  desire  of  change  is  his  disease  ; that  his 
disquiets  will  never  cease,  till  he  has  unalterably  fixed 
upon  the  objects  of  his  pleasure  ; and  till,  having  brought 
his  mind  to  like  and  love  only  what  is  fit  and  reasonable, 
he  keeps  it  firm  and  constant  in  the  approbation  of  these 
things.  When  the  vagrancy  of  humor  and  fancy  is  set- 
tled, a man  has  but  to  choose,  for  once,  his  pleasures, 
and,  so  far  as  the  nature  of  human  things  will  permit,  he 
is  assured  to  have  them  permanent.  I myself  was  in 
great  danger  of  making  a scurvy  experiment  of  what  I 
have  been  saying ; and  had  not  my  mind,  by  my  ever 
good  God’s  assistance,  taken  a pretty  strong  bent  before- 
hand, toward  the  satisfaction  which  I had  previously 
fixed  upon,  it  would  have  run  the  hazard  of  declining 
from  it ; for  the  ideas  which  it  had  conceived  began  to 
wear  away,  for  want  of  renewing  the  impressions  by  in- 
tent meditation  and  frequent  reasonings  ; and  from  these 
I was  in  a great  measure  precluded,  by  an  incessant  hurry, 
for  six  or  seven  months  together,  of  trivial  employments, 
in  conversing  with  workmen,  and  contriving  for  build- 
ing. Thence,  I found  it  no  easy  matter,  to  bring  my 
mind  up  to  its  former  station  ; and  it  considerably  lost 
ground,  notwithstanding  my  continual  endeavors  to  keep 
it  immoveable  in  those  principles,  in  which  I had  resolved 
to  persevere  to  my  life’s  end : for  though,  I thank  God, 
I found  no  inclination  to  be  vicious,  yet  the  ardor  of  my 
virtue,  and  consequently  the  pleasure  I received  from  it, 
were  extremely  abated.  And,  though  I still  retained  an 
abhorrence  to  vice,  yet  my  indignation  at  it  was  much 
slackened  : so  that  virtue  did  not  seem  to  have  alto- 
gether so  charming,  nor  vice  so  deformed,  an  aspect  as 
they  used  formerly  to  appear  in  : and  the  passions, 
which  I hoped  had  been  pretty  jvell  overcome,  began  to 
strive  and  struggle  for  mastery  again.  Now,  had  they 
prevailed,  the  house  which  I was  building  for  a comfort- 
able retreat  from  the  world,  where  I designed  to  spend 
my  days  in  the  service  and  adoration  of  my  most  mer- 
ciful God,  and  in  studying  to  cultivate  my  mind,  and  to 


224 


DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 


[how. 


improve  it  in  all  virtue,  and  to  render  it  less  unworthy 
of  his  favor, — would  have  seemed  to  me  a melancholy 
habitation.  And,  after  all  my  charge  and  pains  in  build- 
ing it,  I should  have  grown  weary  of  a solitary  life  ; for 
solitariness  without  virtue,  is  an  unsupportable  burthen. 
And  I should  probably  have  left  my  retreat,  to  have 
played  the  fool  somewhere  else.  But,  blessed  be  my 
gracious  God  who  has  averted,  and  I trust  in  his  infi- 
nite mercy  ever  will  avert,  from  me,  so  fatal  a mischief! 
O let  me  never  stray  from  thee,  nor  shrink,  in  the  least, 
from  my  resolutions  of  an  entire  obedience  to  thee. 
Hold  thou  me  up,  that  I may  never  fall ; and,  in  thy  glo- 
rious light,  let  me  evermore  see  light.  Leave  me  not  to 
my  own  vain  imaginations,  the  greatest  curse  that  can 
befal  wretched  man. 

LXVII.  As  a reasonable,  well-grounded  faith  is  the 
highest  perfection,  and  supreme  felicity,  of  human  na- 
ture, in  this  imperfect  state,  so,  an  unreasonable  and  ob- 
stinate belief,  is  most  destructive  in  its  consequences  to 
salvation.  He  is  as  sure  to  miss  the  mark  at  which  he 
aims,  who  over-shoots  it,  as  he  that  shoots  below’  it; 
and,  perhaps,  he  is  not  less  likely  to  fail  of  salvation, 
who  over-believes,  than  he  who  believes  too  little,  or 
does  not  believe  at  all  ; for,  though  it  is  absolutely  ne- 
cessary to  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the 
world  to  be  the  Saviour  of  mankind,  and  that  it  is  through 
his  merits,  propitiation,  and  intercession  alone,  that  we 
can  reasonably  hope  to  be  saved, — yet,  if  we  think  that 
he  has  so  absolutely  purchased  salvation  for  us,  as  to 
disengage  us  from  the  obligation  of  our  utmost  obedience, 
and  to  release  us  from  laboring  and  striving  diligently, 
according  to  the  utmost  extent  of  onr  power,  to  serve  and 
please  the  great  God,  to  imitate  his  perfections,  to  exter- 
minate, as  far  as  possible,  all  sin  and  impurity  out  of  our 
souls,  and  to  be  always  renewing  in  them  the  almost 
worn-out  traces  of  his  glorious  image, — he  that  has  such 
an  unreasonable,  preposterous  faith,  I doubt,  will  find 
himself  as  much  wide  of  the  mark  in  the  affair  of  his 
salvation,  as  he  that  believes  nothing  relating  to  it.  Such 
an  unlimited  mercy  were  rather  to  render  us  libertines, 
than  make  us  free  ; it  were  to  suppose  that  the  infinitely 


» Mr.  How  cannot  here  be  defended,  from  a sort  of  classical  pan,— Ed. 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  225 

pure  God  had  purchased  and  given  a liberty  to  those 
whom  he  has  pleased  to  love  and  favor,  of  being  as  im- 
pure and  vicious  as  they  thought  fit ; which  is  the  most 
notorious  contradiction  imaginable  ; since  no  reasonable 
man  can  conceive,  that  a being  of  an  essence  perfectly 
pure,  can  delight  in  perverse,  polluted  creatures,  of  a 
nature  entirely  opposite  to  his  own.  Yet,  after  all,  we 
must  not  pretend  a title  to  the  favor  of  God,  from  any 
virtue  or  purity  of  which  we  are  capable  ; but  having, 
to  the' utmost  we  are  able,  performed  our  duty,  we  must 
cast  ourselves  wholly  upon  his  mercy,  through  the  me- 
rits and  intercession  of  Jesus  Christ  our  Saviour.  F or, 
it  were  a rash  presumption  to  think  that  such  a crea- 
ture as  man  is,  were  capable  of  doing  or  being  any 
thing,  that  could  merit  from  the  Deity  ; who  bestows  all 
things  upon  his  indigent  creatures,  but  who  neither 
needs,  nor  can  receive,  any  thing  from  them  ; who  ac- 
cepts, indeed,  our  most  imperfect  praises  and  adoration, 
not  flowing  from  ourselves,  but  from  the  influence  and 
inspiration  ofhis  blessed  Spirit  in  us,  who  is  the  author  of 
all  our  virtue,  and  by  whose  power  alone  it  is,  that  we  are 
able  to  forego  any  vice.  How,  then,  can  frail  man  merit 
aught  of  his  Creator,  who  has  nothing  of  his  own  to  be- 
stow upon  Him  ? Who,  with  all  his  pride  and  arrogance, 
is  likewise  so  impotent  as  not  to  be  able  to  give  himself 
the  life  of  the  poorest  insect,  nor  so  much  as  to  retain 
his  expiring  breath  one  moment ; how  much  less,  then, 
has  he  power  to  assume  and  lead  a virtuous  life?  such 
a life,  as  makes  some  approaches  toward  that  of  angels  ; 
which  nevertheless,  not  being  the  result  of  man’s  wisdom 
or  ability,  can  claim  no  title  to  merit  ? If  the  seed  sown 
produce  a pleasant  harvest,  it  is  to  the  sower  the  praise 
belongs.  And  whatsoever  virtues,  from  the  divine  in- 
fluence, spring  up  in  the  soul,  to  the  bountiful  God  alone 
the  honor  is  due. 

LXVHI.  Neither  vicious  nor  innocent  pleasures, 
which  are  communicated  by  the  bodily  senses,  can  ever 
give  satisfaction  to  a rational  man ; who,  by  a clearer 
reason,  discovering  their  vanity  and  insufficiency,  will 
not  unprofitably  waste  his  desires  and  affections  upon 
them.  But  the  pleasures  of  virtue,  which  are  conveyed 
to  the  mind  by  thought  and  reflection,  come  attended 
with  a delightful  force,  which  convinces  the  reason  of 


226  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

every  wise  man  : so  that  his  soul  may  freely,  without 
check  or  restraint,  devote  itself  to  their  enjoyment. 

LXIX.  Though  it  is  impossible  to  describe  all  the 
delusions  which  wild  passions  impose  upon  mankind, 
the  two  following  may  justly  be  reckoned  amongst  the 
greatest ; and  are,  indeed,  the  pillars  upon  which  error, 
vice,  and  ignorance,  are  erected,  and  by  which  they  are 
supported.  The  first  is,  man’s  conceptions  of  eternity 
are  slight  and  superficial : he  is  as  though  he  had  neither 
share  nor  concern  in  it ; his  imagination  is  filled  and 
loaded  with  the  enjoyments  of  time,  as  though  it  were 
his  own  unalterable  and  unalienable  possession.  The 
second,  and  no  less  mischievous  delusion,  is,  that  man’s 
thoughts  and  notions  of  the  Deity  are  low,  mean,  and 
unworthy  of  that  most  glorious  Being  : while  his  mind 
is  fraught  with  great  and  lofty  ideas  of  his  own  suffi- 
ciency and  excellence,  very  unsuitable  to  so  impotent  and 
helpless  a creature.  Were  these  two  gross  mistakes 
rectified,  man  would  soon  grow  better  acquainted  with 
himself ; would  lead^  life  becoming  a reasonable  crea- 
ture ; and  would  have  a more  true  and  intimate  know- 
ledge of  God,  in  comparison  with  which,  all  the  things 
we  see,  or  can  conceive,  are  of  no  value. 

XXX.  This  day®  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  great  per- 
plexity and  uneasiness  which  I have  perceived  in  many 
people,  occasioned  by  the  superstitious  impressions 
made  upon  their  minds,  by  the  tales  of  weak  and  igno- 
rant people  in  their  infancy.  A period,  when  the  ten- 
der mind  is  most  apt  to  receive  the  impressions  of  error 
and  vice,  as  well  as  those  of  truth  and  virtue  ; and, 
having  once  received  either  the  one  or  the  other,  is  likely 
to  retain  them  as  long  as  it  subsists  in  the  body.  How 
charitable  a care  is  it,  therefore,  and  how  much  the  duty  of 
every  parent  whom  it  has  pleased  God  to  bless  with  a right 
understanding,  to  endeavor  to  transmit  that  understand- 
ing, with  what  improvement  he  can,  to  his  children  ! 
To  have,  at  least,  as  much  care  of  them,  as  a gardener 
has  of  a nice  delicate  plant  that  he  values  ; when  he 
diligently  shelters  and  defends  it,  from  the  pernicious 
assaults  of  storms  and  tempests,  and  blasting  winds,  till 
a milder  season  and  warmer  sun  put  it  out  of  danger  ! 


ChildermuS'day, 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  227 

With  no  less  industry  ought  a kind  parent  to  guard  the 
tender  mind  of  his  child  from  the  hurtful  notions,  and 
superstitious  conceits,  of  foolish,  ignorant  people  ; who, 
by  senseless,  impertinent  tales,  begin  to  plant  errors  and 
vice  in  the  innocent  soul,  even  from  the  cradle.  It  is 
in  the  nursery  where  ignorantly  deluded,  and  deluding 
wretches,  first  sow  those  tares  in  the  child,  which  it  is 
ten  to  one  whether  the  grown-up  man  is  afterward  ever 
able  to  root  out.  There  every  simple  creature,  if  not 
prevented,  will  be  blotting  the  yet  clear  and  unspotted 
soul,  and  sullying  it  with  false  lines,  and  foul  characters  ; 
besmearing  it,  after  their  awkward  manner,  with  horrid 
images  of  frightful  sprites  and  hobgoblins,  and  painting 
upon  it  a thousand  monstrous  and  terrific  shapes  of 
death,  to  make  their  future  life  miserably  wretched. 
Thus,  with  a barbarous  folly,  they  create,  betimes,  the 
most  abhorring  aversion  in  the  mind,  to  that  which 
Providence  has  ordained  ; and,  with  a detestable  im- 
piety, sow  in  it  the  seeds  of  reluctance  and  contradic- 
tion to  the  wisdom,  will,  and  unalterable  decrees  of  the 
Almighty.  So  that,  when  wiser  people  come  to  try 
their  skill,  they  find  their  unhappy  soul  so  bedaubed 
with  those  odious,  hideous  figures,  that  there  is  little 
room  left  for  fairer  and  better  impressions.  Here  is 
laid  the  groundwork  of  an  erroneous  judgment,  and 
wrong  understanding  ; and,  amongst  other  mischiefs 
that  have  here  their  beginning,  are  those  very  grievous 
ones,  of  a timorous  and  superstitious  spirit,  apt  to  give 
credit  to  the  luckiness  or  unluckiness  of  certain  days,  / 
and  to  a thousand  ominous  whimsies  and  conceits ; 
which,  as  they  are  the  unhappy  offspring  of  weakness 
and  ignorance,  so  are  they  the  never  enough  to  be  de- 
tested parents  of  grief  and  misery,  to  those  who  are 
weak  and  wretched  enough  to  be  deluded  by  them.  All 
these  deplorable  follies  proceed  from  wrong  and  un-^ 
worthy  apprehensions  of  God’s  providence,  in  his  care 
of  man,  and  government  of  the  world.  For  no  reason- 
able creature  can  ever  imagine,  that  the  all-wise  God 
should  inspire  owls  and  ravens  to  hoot  out  the  elegies 
of  dying  men  ; that  he  should  have  ordained  a fatality 
in  number,  and  inflicted  punishment  without  an  offence  ; 
and  that,  the  being  one  amongst  the  fatal  number  at  a 
table,  should,  though  contrary  to  no  command,  be  a 


228  PEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

crime  not  to  be  expiated,  but  by  death ! That  even 
spiders  and  candles  should  have  a foreknowledge  of 
man’s  destiny:  that  certain  days  are  unlucky,  as  if  the 
good  and  virtuous  were  not,  at  all  times,  in  all  places, ( 
and  in  all  numbers  too,  assured  of  the  protection  of  the  ’ 
infinitely  merciful  God.  These  are  such  horrid  con- 
ceits, so  void  of  reason,  and  so  full  of  impious  folly, 
that  those  people  can  neither  have  right  notions  of  him, 
nor  trust,  nor  faith  in  him,  that  give  credit  to  them.  I 
might  have  added  amongst  the  nursery-accomplish- 
ments, that  the  passions  are  generally  nourished  there, 
as  carefully  as  the  child ; and  it  is  well,  if  the  indulgent 
mother,  as  well  as  others  in  the  family  that  should  have 
more  wit,  do  not  think  pride  and  ambition  admirable 
ingredients  in  a genteel  and  virtuous  education.  Thus 
folly,  like  gunpowder,  runs  in  a train  from  one  genera- 
tion to  another,  preserved  and  conveyed  by  the  perpe- 
tual tradition  of  tattling  gossips. 

LXXI.  Though,  as  I have  formerly  said,  man,  who 
has  no  goodness  or  virtue  originally  in  his  own  power, 
can  merit  nothing  from  that  Being  to  whom  all  power 
belongs,  yet  he  ought  so  to  live,  and  so  to  act,  as  if  the 
highest  pitch  of  human  virtue  were  scarcely,  or  at  most 
but  just  sufficient,  to  procure  the  eternal  favor  of  God  ; the 
consequence  of  which,  to  those  on  whom  it  is  bestowed, 
is  no  less  than  eternal  felicity. 

LXXII.  The  affections  of  the  soul  of  man,  being 
encumbered  with  as  many  distractions  as  there  are 
objects  to  excite  and  engage  them,  what  measure  of 
proportion,  O most  gracious  God,  can  the  gratitude  of 
so  frail  and  imperfect  a creature,  bear  to  the  obligations 
ever  flowing  upon  him  from  thy  unlimited  bounty  ! If 
every  minute  of  time  comes  from  thee  loaded  with 
blessings,  what  an  unaccountable  sum  must  the  year 
produce  ? And,  if  the  blessings  of  a year  surpass  our 
account,  how  must  we  be  confounded  and  lost  in  the 
reckoning  of  our  whole  lives  ? And  should  we,  by  the 
same  method,  most  merciful  God,  strive  to  number  our 
sins  and  offences,  we  should  find  it  a task  equally  im- 
possible with  that  of  numbering  thy  mercies  : accept, 
therefore,  I most  humbly  beseech  thee,  the  imperfect 
thanks  and  adoration  of  my  soul,  and  continually  aug- 
ment its  power  and  capacity  more  perfectly  to  render 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  229 

them  both  to  Thee.  Accept,  likewise,  of  its  unfeigned 
sorrow  for  all  my  sins  and  offences,  and  continually 
diminish  in  it  the  force  of  corruption,  and  all  tendency 
and  inclination  to  vice  and  disobedience.  And,  as  thou 
renewest  thy  blessings  with  the  year,  to  me  and  my 
dear  child,  so  I beg  thou  wilt  be  pleased  to  make  us 
both  clean  hearts,  and  to  renew  also  right  spirits  within 
us ; that  we  may  most  gratefully,  obediently,  and  ac- 
ceptably, serve  thee  all  the  days  of  our  lives,  for  Jesus 
Christ’s  sake,  our  gracious  Lord  and  Saviour. 

LXXIII.  Man’s  excessive  love  of  the  world,  and 
want  of  love  to  the  great  Creator,  is,  I may  affirm,  the 
cause  of  nine  parts  in  ten  of  the  vexations  and  uneasi- 
nesses of  this  life.  Nor  must  he  depend,  for  a remedy, 
upon  the  force  of  his  reason  ; which,  without  assistance, 
is  too  weak  to  subdue  the  fierce  and  obstinate  passions 
that  it  has  to  encounter.  Now,  the  passions,  though 
they  suffer  a small  defeat,  can  immediately  levy  new 
recruits,  and  return  to  the  attack  with  fresh  vigor ; 
while  reason,  having  no  such  supplies,  must  needs  at 
length  be  overcome.  Those  ever-multiplying  hydra’s 
heads  are  not  to  be  lopped  off,  by  so  weak  an  arm  ; and  it 
were  but  inconsiderate  rashness  to  attempt  the  labor  of 
a Hercules,  without  the  strength  of  a Hercules.  Nor 
can  so  difficult  a work  be  successfully  undertaken, 
otherwise  than  by  the  help  of  that  divine  irresistible 
power,  which  is  communicated  to  man  by  faith;  a 
power  sufficient  to  make  him  more  than  conqueror. 
But,  of  all  the  mistakes  which  men  continually  make, 
there  are,  perhaps,  none  more  frequent,  and  I am  sure, 
none  more  dangerous,  than  those  concerning  faith  ; a 
treasure,  with  the  possession  of  which  they  are  too  apt 
to  flatter  themselves  ; though,  when  it  is  requisite  to 
be  employed,  it  were  well  if  they  did  not  too  often  find 
themselves  deceived.  This  one  instance  I think  is  suf- 
ficient to  demonstrate  this  matter : no  man  will  walk 
upon  the  brink  of  a precipice,  where  he  is  assured  that 
every  slip  is  attended  with  death  ; nay,  few  care  to  ap- 
proach even  within  a moderate  distance  where  they 
might  stand  secure  enough ; because  their  fear,  in 
that  case,  always  represents  to  them  the  danger  much 
greater  and  nearer  than  it  really  is.  Now,  if  men  be- 
lieved the  eternal  displeasure  of  God  to  be  as  great  a 
20 


230  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW, 

mischief  as  the  precipice,  they  would  undoubtedly  dread 
it  as  much,  and  as  carefully  avoid  it.  But  we  see  many 
men,  who  think  they  have  faith,  or  at  least  who  would 
be  thought  to  have  it,  not  only  walking  continually  upon 
the  outwardmost  borders  of  innocence,  but  frequently 
stumbling,  and  falling  far  within  those  of  vice  ; without 
greatly  concerning  themselves  to  prevent  such  slips  for 
the  future.  Thus,  in  the  case  of  temporal  evil,  it  is 
evident,  that  the  firm  belief  of  the  danger  will  not  suf- 
fer men  to  approach  it  so  remotely  even  as  where  no 
danger  is  ; but,  in  the  case  of  spiritual  evil,  their  want 
of  faith  leads  them  confidently,  into  situations  where  it 
is  impossible  for  them  to  escape.p  So  much  can  fear, 
in  base  degenerate  man,  prevail  beyond  reason ! So 
weak  is  reason,  without  the  strength  of  faith  ! O,  my 
gracious  God,  grant  me  that  inestimable  treasure,  by 
which  my  life  may  be  furnished  with  all  virtues  that 
may  rendfer  it  pleasing  in  thy  sight,  for  Jesus  Christ’s 
sake ! 

LXXIV.  Fancy  is  a weather-cock,  that  turns  with 
every  blast  of  the  opinion  and  applause  of  the  incon- 
stant, unthinking  world.  Whatever  point  it  stands  at 
at  this  moment,  the  next,  perhaps,  it  shall  be  hurried  to 
that  which  is  directly  opposite.  And  he  that  steers  his 
life  by  this  compass,  will  be  sure  to  make  a very  uncer- 
tain and  vexatious  voyage.  Instead  of  ever  arriving 
at  the  haven  of  tranquillity  and  enjoyment,  he  will  be 
forced  upon  the  rocks  of  delusion  and  disappointment, 
where  he  will  be  wretchedly  entertained,  with  repent- 
ance and  despair. 

LXXV.  Religion  is  a thing  much  talked  of,  but  little 
understood ; much  pretended  to,  but  very  little  prac- 
tised ; and  the  reason  why  it  is  so  ill  practised,  is  be-, 
cause  it  is  not  better  understood.  Knowledge,  there- 1 
fore,  must  precede  religion  ; since  it.is  necessary  to  be' 
wise  in  order  to  be  virtuous.  It  must  be  known  to 
whom,  and  upon  what  account  duty  is  owing,  otherwise 


p ‘ The  point  between  lawful  pleasures  and  vice,  is  like  a boundary 
between  two  kingdoms  at  war  with  each  other.  It  is,  therefore,  most 
prudent,  weak  and  defenceless  as  we  are,  not  to  venture  to  the  very 
edge  of  our  own  side,  but  leave  some  space  between,  lest  an  insidious 
enemy  surprise  and  take  us  captive,  unawares.’ — Dr.  Towson’s  Works^ 
vol  ii.  p.  223. — Ed. 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  231 

it  can  never  be  rightly  paid.  It  must  therefore  be  con- 
sidered, that  God  is  the  object  of  all  religion,  and  that 
the  soul  is  the  subject  wherein  it  exists  and  resides. 
From  the  soul  it  must  proceed,  and  to  God  it  must  be 
directed  ; as  to  that  Almighty  Being,  whose  power 
alone  could  create  a rational  soul,  and  whose  goodness 
only  could  move  him  to  make  it  capable  of  an  eternal 
felicity.  This  infinite  bounty  of  God  has  laid  a per- 
petual obligation  upon  the  soul,  to  a constant  love, 
obedience,  and  adoration  of  Him  ; and  to  an  undoubt- 
ing assurance,  that  the  same  power  and  goodness  which 
created  man,  will,  if  he  perseveres  in  the  sincere  per- 
formance of  his  duty,  for  ever  preserve  and  protect 
him.  The  body,  therefore,  can  have  no  other  share  in 
religion,  than  by  its  gestures  to  represent  and  discover 
the  bent  and  inclination  of  the  mind.  Which  repre- 
sentations, also,  are  but  too  often  false  and  treacherous, 
deluding  those  that  behold  them  into  the  opinion  of  a 
saint,  but  truly  discovering  a notorious  hypocrite  to 
God  ; who  sees  the  vast  distance  between  real  inten- 
tions, and  deceptive  pretences.  People  are  as  much 
deceived  themselves  as  they  deceive  others,  who  think 
to  use  religion  as  they  do  their  best  clothes  ; only  wear- 
ing it  at  church  on  a Sunday,  to  appear  fine,  and  make 
a show,  and  as  soon  as  they  come  home  again,  laying 
it  aside  carefully  for  fear  of  wearing  it  out : but  religion 
is  good  for  nothing,  that  is  made  of  so  slight  a stuff  as 
will  not  endure  wearing ; which  ought,  in  truth,  to  be 
as  constant  a covering  to  the  soul,  as  the  skin  is  to  the 
body ; division  being  the  ruin  of  both.  Nor  must  it  be 
thought  that  religion  consists  only  in  the  bending  of 
the  knees,  which  is  a fitting  posture  of  humility,  but  in 
the  fervent  and  humble  adoration  of  the  soul ; nor  in 
the  lifting  up  of  the  hancTs  and  eyes,  but  in  the  warmth 
of  the  affection.  Outward  gestures  and  decent  be- 
havior are  things  very  fit  and  reasonable,  being  all 
that  the  body  can  pay  ; but  inward  sincerity  alone,  can 
render  them  both  acceptable.  Much  less,  does  religion 
consist  in  dismal  looks  and  sour  faces ; which  only 
show,  that  it  is  very  unpalatable  to  those  who  make 
them  ; and  it  seems  to  me,  as  if  they  were  swallowing 
something  that  went  grievously  against  their  stomachs. 
It  is  likewise  to  be  considered,  that  the  frequency  and 


232  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW, 

fervency,  not  the  length  of  prayer,  give  it  acceptance ; 
that  one  petition,  from  a well-disposed  mind,  rightly 
addressed  to  God,  is  more  efficacious  than  ten  sermons 
carelessly  heard,  and  more  carelessly  practised.  But 
hearing  being  a much  easier  duty  than  praying,  because 
it  can  often  change  into  sleeping,  is  therefore  so  much 
preferred  to  it  by  a great  many  people.:  but  if,  in  the 
end,  their  profound  ignorance  will  not  excuse  them,  I 
am  sure  their  stupid  obstinacy  never  will.  But,  in 
order  to  praying  rightly,  so  many  virtues  are  required, 
that  people  think,  perhaps,  it  would  take  up  too  much 
time  and  pains  to  acquire  them:  and  they  are  much  in 
the  right,  if  they  think  their  prayers  will  be  insignifi- 
cant without  virtue,  and  that  an  ill  man  can  never  pray 
W'ell,  and  to  purpose;  for  the  stream  Will  always  par- 
take of  the  fountain : and,  if  the  mind,  which  is  the 
fountain  of  all  our  addresses  to  God,  be  vicious  and 
impure,  the  prayers  which  proceed  from  it,  must  needs 
be  sullied  with  the  same  pollutions.  But,  on  the  con- 
trary, if  the  mind  be  once  made  virtuous,  all  that  pro- 
ceeds from  it  will  be  pleasing  and  accepted.  And  as 
to  dejected  looks,  and  a sorrowful  countenance,  they 
are  nowise  graceful  in  religion  ; which  is  so  far  from 
being  a melancholy  thing,  that  it  can  never  appear  dis- 
pleasing, or  tiresome,  to  a mind  where  wisdom  and 
virtue  do  not  first  seem  troublesome ; for  wisdom,  in- 
structing the  soul  to  act  reasonably,  instructs  it,  like- 
wise, to  serve  and  obey  God  readily  and  cheerfully. 
And,  to  a wise  man,  that  which  appears  reasonable  will 
always  appear  delightful ; and  religion  is  that  very  same 
reason  and  wisdom,  whose  ways  are  ways  of  pleasant- 
ness, and  all  whose  paths  are  peace. 

LXXVI.  The  peace  of  God  being  what  we  often 
pray  for,  and  earnestly  desire,  ought,  so  far  as  possible, 
to  be  understood,  in  order  to  be  more  earnestly  coveted, 
and  surely  possessed.  For  that  in  which  it  is  said  to 
pass  all  understanding,  is  the  invaluable  advantage  and 
delight  with  which  it  is  constantly  attended,  and  not 
that  it  is  so  unintelligible  a thing  as  not  possibly  to  be 
apprehended  by  us ; since  that  which  in  a great  degree 
we  are  capable  of  feeling,  we  are  certainly  in  some 
measure  capable  of  understanding.  This  blessing  is 
prayed  for,  that  we  may  have  the  unspeakable  comfort 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  233 

of  feeling  it ; and  indeed,  there  is  no  understanding  it 
but  by  feeling  it.  But  though  we  may  comprehend 
enough  of  its  value  to  make  it  infinitely  desirable,  yet 
the  utmost  extent  of  it  as  far  surpasses  our  understand- 
ing as  the  blessings  which  precede  and  follow  it ; which 
are  the  favor  of  God,  and  the  inconceivable  bliss  that 
accompanies  the  eternal  enjoyment  of  him.  Therefore, 
I will  never  cease  my  endeavors  to  know  as  much,  nor 
my  petitions  to  thee,  my  gracious  God,  to  make  me  feel 
as  much  of  this  blessed  peace  of  thine, — a peace  which 
all  the  power,  wealth,  and  glory  of  this  world,  can  never 
give, — as  thou,  of  thy  infinitely  tender  mercy,  shalt 
think  fit  to  bestow  upon  me.  It  is  natural  that  the 
word  peace  should  put  us  in  mind  of  its  contrary,  war ; 
since  peace  arises  from  the  conclusion  of  war,  and  from 
the  cessation  of  strife  and  combat ; and  tJiat  there  is  a 
contest  in  the  soul  of  man,  between  reason  and  passion, 
wisdom  and  folly,  virtue  and  vice,  is  too  evident  to  need 
proof.  And  it  is  as  plain,  that  wheresoever  there  is 
strife  and  contention,  there  must  be  trouble  and  dis- 
order: therefore,  the  agitated  mind  must  needs  be  per- 
plexed and  restless  so  long  as  this  intestine  war  con- 
tinues, and  till  there  be  a complete  victory  gained  on 
one  side  or  other.  If  vice  and  passion  absolutely  prevail, 
the  contest  indeed  will  be  at  an  end,  but  it  will  be  a 
wretched  termination  ; and  such  a peace  only  will  ensue, 
as  will  suffer  those  outrageous  enemies  to  tyrannize 
without  opposition  or  control ; a peace  fatal  to  the  soul, 
debarring  it  from  any  future  hopes  of  liberty  or  happi- 
ness. But,  if  it  please  the  all-merciful,  as  well  as  all- 
powerful  God,  to  succor  man’s  weak  reason  and  virtue, 
engaged  in  this  doubtful  and  dangerous  conflict,  and  so 
to  illuminate  the  one,  and  strengthen  the  other,  as  to  give 
them  an  entire  victory, — then  he  crowns  the  transported 
soul  with  his  divine  peace ; the  joy  and  comfort  of 
which  as  much  surpass  all  expression,  as  its  infinite 
benefit  and  blessing  surpass  all  understanding;  which 
peace,  most  gracious  God,  grant  evermore,  I beseech 
thee,  to  thy  poor  un'tVorthy  servant,  for  Jesus  Christ’s 
sake.  Amen. 

LXXVII.  Imperfection  is  an  argument  that  there  is 
such  a thing  as  perfection ; and  the  experience  of  so 
many  things  imperfect,  plainly  leads  us  to  a certainty 
20^ 


234  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

of  Others  that  are  perfect.  For,  one  contrary  is  an 
argument  of  another  opposite  to  it,  as  cold  of  heat, 
darkness  of  light,  death  of  life,  and  so  of  innumerable 
others ; the  former,  in  all  these  cases,  being  the  priva- 
tion of  the  latter,  and,  therefore,  an  evident  demonstra- 
tion of  them.  The  world  were  a prodigious  heap  of 
imperfection,  if  it  could  be  conceived  to  be  independent, 
and  to  bear  no  relation  to  any  thing  but  itself;  and 
man  is  the  most  unfinished  and  imperfect  of  all  its 
animals ; who  seems  to  have  a capacity  only  of  aiming 
at  and  pretending  to  power  and  wisdom,  without  any 
ability  of  attaining  to  either ; whose  greatest  advantage 
is,  from  his  own  manifest  insufficiency  and  imperfection, 
to  raise  to  himself  a most  convincing  argument  of  the 
union  of  all  those  virtues  and  perfections  in  the  Deity, 
of  which  he  himself  possesses  little  more  than  confused 
notions  and  faint  conceptions  : and  thus,  from  his  own 
clouds  and  darkness,  he  may  reason  himself  into  an 
assurance  of  the  existence  of  that  blessed  and  unclouded 
light.  Since  man,  therefore,  finds  in  himself  such  a 
deficiency  of  power  and  wisdom,  he  must  needs  perceive 
how  unfit  and  unable  he  is  to  be  his  own  governor  ; 
being  assaulted  from  without  by  unhappy  accidents 
which  he  cannot  prevent,  and  from  within  by  vexations 
and  perturbations  of  mind  which  he  is  not  able  to 
redress  ; and  by  consequence  he  must  be  conscious,  that 
his  corrupted  will  and  depraved  affections  have  much 
less  any  title  to  be  his  rulers.  Why,  then,  does  he  not 
betake  himself  to  consider  what  is  the  will  and  pleasure 
of  that  transcendent  Being,  whom  superior  power  and 
excellence,  by  an  unquestionable  right,  have  constituted 
his  lord  and  governor  ; bending  the  utmost  of  his  endea- 
vors, and  dedicating  his  whole  life  to  the  fulfilment  and 
performance  of  God’s  holy  will  ? As,  by  thy  grace  and 
mercy,  most  merciful  Creator,  which,  in  all  humility,  I 
implore  of  thee,  it  is  my  full  purpose  and  design  to  do. 

LXXVIII.  The  great  preference  frequently  given  to 
sermons  above  prayer,  makes  me  desirous  to  consider 
that  matter,  in  order  to  a true  discovery  to  which  of 
them  the  preference  is  justly  due,  and  what  the  real 
value  of  ftach  of  them  is. 

Sermons  serve  for  these  two  purposes  : to  teach  their 
duty  to  those  who  are  ignorant  of  it,  and  to  put  those 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  235 

in  mind  of  their  duty  who  are  neglectful  of  it ; showing 
the  first  sort  how  to  perform  it,  and  persuading  the 
latter  effectually  to  put  it  in  practice.  In  both  which 
things  sermons  contribute  to  salvation  no  otherwise  than 
he  who  shows  a traveller  his  right  way,  and  advises  him 
to  keep  in  it,  contributes  to  his  reaching  his  journey’s 
end.  For,  if  the  traveller  shall  rest  satisfied  in  the  bare 
advice  and  instruction  which  he  has  received,  and  pro- 
.ceed  no  further,  he  is  never  likely  to  reach  the  place  of 
his  original  designation ; since  it  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  he  who  directs  him,  is  to  carry  him  thither  upon  his 
back.  It  is  just  the  same  case  in  hearing  sermons.  The 
minister’s  business  is  no  more  than  to  teach  us  how  to 
be  saved ; our  own  piety  and  virtue  must  carry  us  to 
heaven.  This  is  the  use  of  sermons,  and  a very  great 
and  necessary  use  it  is  ; and  yet  a man  may  be  damned, 
notwithstanding  all  the  good  instructions  that  enter  in 
at  his  ears,  unless  they  make  a right  impression  on 
his  heart.  But  it  cannot  be  imagined  that  the  same 
thing  will  serve  for  all  purposes.  The  ear  is  made  for 
one  use,  and  the  heart  for  another  ; the  one  is  the  con- 
duit of  instruction,  the  other  the  seat  of  wisdom.  So 
the  mouth  is  very  useful  in  receiving  food  for  the  body, 
but  it  is  the  stomach  that  must  digest  and  prepare  it  for 
strength  and  nourishment.  Thus  it  sufficiently  appears 
what  the  use  of  sermons  is. 

The  use  of  prayer  is  now  to  be  considered.  And 
first,  it  must  be  known,  that  the  affections  of  the  soul 
have  something  that  corresponds  and  sympathizes  with 
them  in  the  body,  by  which  they  usually  discover  them- 
selves ; as  grief  in  the  soul  appears  by  the  weeping  of 
the  eyes,  and  joy  displays  itself  in  a gay  and  cheerful 
countenance.  And  so  in  our  several  duties'  to  God, 
according  as  the  soul  i,s  affected  from  the  same  causes, 
it  will  certainly  make  the  same  outward  discoveries.  If 
it  be  oppressed  with  trouble,  or  has  a lively  sense  of  its 
wants  and  imperfections,  it  will  oblige  the  tongue  to 
utter  them,  seeking  redress  in  humble  petitions.  If  it 
abounds  with  gratitude,  the  lips  will  not  be  able  to  re- 
frain their  thanks,  or  to  withhold  their  praises  and  ado- 
rations, when  the  soul  is  inflamed  with  love.  Thus 
prayer  is  the  language  of  the  soul,  whereby  it  expresses 
its  several  conditions  and  affections  to  the  Almighty 


236  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

God,  between  whom  and  it,  by  this  means,  a constant 
correspondence  is  held.  By  prayer  the  soul  explains 
and  unfolds  itself  to  God,  and,  by  the  virtue  of  prayer, 
draws  down  continual  benefits  and  blessings  from  liea- 
ven,  asking  being  made  the  condition  of  receiving.  And 
it  is  a folly  for  any  one  to  expect  favors  that  he  will  not 
take  the  pains  to  ask  for. 

And  thus  the  advantages  of  those  different  but  neces- 
sary duties  are  discovered.  Sermons  hold  the  light  for 
the  direction  of  prayer;  the  former  being  the  instruments 
of  instruction,  the  latter  the  instrument  of  salvation. 
Nay,  I might  add,  that  were  all  people  as  wise  and  as 
virtuous  as  they  ought  to  be,  and  could  continue  so, 
there  would  be  no  need  at  all  of  sermons  since  there 
would  be  no  occasion  for  teaching  or  persuading ; the 
former  relating  only  to  the  ignorant,  and  the  latter  to 
the  obstinate  and  vicious.  Insomuch,  that  as  folly, 
weakness,  and  vice,  have  alone  made  sermons  neces- 
sary, so  nothing  but  such  a perfection  in  wisdom  and 
virtue,  as  the  frailty  of  human  nature  will  hardly  admit 
of,  can  ever  render  them  useless.  But  the  obligation  to 
prayer  is  that  which  nothing  can  ever  cancel  or  dis- 
charge ; for  the  more  perfect  wisdom  and  virtue  grow, 
the  more  vehement  and  incessant  will  they  render 
prayer,  which  can  never  cease  so  long  as  there  remains 
any  spark  of  the  love  of  God  in  the  soul,  or  any  sense 
of  his  bounty  and  benefits.  Could  prayer  have  an  end, 
the  pleasure  of  the  soul  must  end  with  it;  since  the 
smothering  of  strong  affections  causes  as  great  an  un- 
easiness in  the  mind  as  the  venting  of  them  gives  relief, 
and  consequently  delight.  Wherefore,  so  long  as  there 
is  love  in  the  soul,  it  will  take  pleasure  in  declaring 
that  love;  and  so  long  as  there  is  gratitude,  it  will 
delight  in  expressing  that  gratitude;  and  whilst; it  con- 
tinues virtuous  and  happy,  it  must  have  these  affections. 
Therefore,  prayer  must  be  as  eternal  as  the  soul  itself. 

LXXIX.  All  virtue  is  imitation  : every  wise  man 
knowing  full  well,  that  his  own  virtue  is  no  original,  but 
a faint  and  imperfectjcopy  only,  of  the  divine  perfections. 

' I do  verily  believe,  that,  if  parents  did  their  duty  as  they  ought, 
the  word  publicly  preached  would  not  he  the  ordinary  means  of  regene- 
ration in  the  Church,  hut  only  without  the  Church,  among  infidels.’ — 
Baxter,  Saint's  Rest,  iii.  14,  Works^  vol.  iii.  p.  223. 


iHOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  237 

It  is  plain,  that  whosoever  would  gain  the  affection 
of  other  men,  must  form  his  humor  to  the  model  of 
theirs;  otherwise,  he  can  never  hope  to  be  successful, 
since  likeness  and  agreeableness  of  humors,  is  that  which 
creates  mutual  friendship  and  affection.  And  the  same 
method  must  be  observed  toward  God  : his  favor  must 
be  obtained  by  resemblance  ; and  his  image  must  be 
drawn  upon  the  soul,  before  he  will  place  his  love  upon 
it.  And  I know  not,  whether  this  will  not  be  the  main 
question  at  the  day  of  judgment,  ‘Whose  image  and 
superscription  does  he  bear  V This  will  be  the  mark, 
that  shall  discover  to  whom  every  soul  belongs,  whether 
to  God,  or  to  the  devil ; a proprietorship  according  to 
which  they  must  be  finally  disposed  of.  For,  though 
both  body  and  soul  must  share  in  the  judgment,  yet  the 
soul  alone  shall  undergo  the  trial.  It  wall  not,  therefore, 
be  by  a demure  or  sanctified  look,  but  by  a virtuous  and 
sanctified  soul,  that  every  one  must  be  acquitted.  Be 
ye  perfect,  as  God  is  perfect,  is  the  entire  sum  and  sub- 
stance of  religion. 

LXXX.  How  pride  can  so  far  intoxicate  the  under- 
standings of  men,  as  to  make  them  really  think  them- 
selves exalted  above  other  men,  by  riches  and  honor, 
and,  in  the  vanity  of  their  hearts,  to  look  down  w ith  con- 
tempt upon  their  supposed  inferiors, — is  prodigious, 
usual  as  it  is.  Certainly,  it  cannot  be  imagined,  that  the 
richer  clothes  create  the  nobler  heart,  or  the  choicer 
meats  the  more  honorable  blood.  Though,  with  all  the 
senseless  boasting  of  noble  blood,  it  is  the  quails  and 
woodcocks,  and  other  dainties,  that  give  it  all  the  pre- 
eminence it  has,  above  that  which  is  bred  by  coarser 
diet ; with  the  adoption  of  gouts  and  scurvies,  and  other 
honorable  attendant  diseases,  into  the  bargain. 

LXXXI.  Every  body  that  wishes  me  well,  seeing  I 
have  built  a convenient  and  pleasant  house,  to  show 
their  kindness,  are  apt  to  wash  that  I may  live  long  to 
enjoy  it : which  I take  very  kindly  of  them,  since  I know 
their  wishes  are  correspondent  to  their  own  natural  de- 
sires. Though,  at  the  same  time,  I perceive  that  their 
notions  of  life  and  happiness,  and  mine,  are  very  differ- 
ent. For  I cannot  think  this  life  worth  desiring,  barely 
upon  account  of  pleasure ; and  I should  be  ashamed  to 
put  up  so  unworthy  a petition  to  the  all-wise  God,  as  to 


238  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [hOW. 

prolong  my  life,  for  no  other  end,  than  for  the  short  and 
insignificant  enjoyments  that  attend  it.  As  if  there  were 
no  expectation  of  a more  complete  and  perfect  happiness 
than  what  we  enjoy  in  this  world  ; as  if  the  flesh  and 
blood  with  which  our  souls  are  invested,  were  the 
only  vehicles  of  pleasure  ; and,  by  consequence,  as  if 
the  Almighty  Creator  had  made  creatures  to  be  more 
happy  than  himself,  and  those  innumerable  companies 
of  blessed  spirits,  who  rejoice  in  the  beams  of  his  glory. 
God  is  infinitely  gracious  to  man  : indulging  him  in  the 
innocent  gratification  of  his  appetites ; and  supplying 
his  wants,  while  he  continues  in  this  world.  But  that 
is  a very  wrong  reason,  why  a man  should  desire  that 
he  may  never  go  out  of  this  world.  He  ought  to  con- 
sider, that  his  conveniences  are  suited  to  the  necessities 
of  this  life,  and  are  no  longer  useful,  than  that  lasts  ; and 
it  were  unreasonable  to  expect,  that  his  life  should  be 
lengthened  and  proportioned  to  his  conveniences.  As 
long  as  we  live  in  this  world,  a house  is  necessary  ; but 
it  is  not  necessary  to  live,  because  we  have  a house. 
So  long  as  cold  weather  lasts,  a cloak  is  necessary;  but 
nobody  would  wish  the  continuance  of  ill  weather,  be- 
cause he  had  a cloak.  This  life,  of  which  we  are  here 
so  fond,  is  but  the  dawning  to  life  and  we  must  be 
conducted  through  that  gloomy,  but  short  passage  of 
death,  into  the  bright  and  perfect  day,  that  shall  be  eter- 
nally enlightened  by  the  splendor  of  the  divine  glories 
in  heaven.  It  is  immortality  that  makes  life  a desirable 
blessing;  without  this,  it  would  be  but  an  unprofitable 
and  burthensome  trifle,  preserved  with  anxiety,  and 
quitted  with  terror.  And  how  great  a weakness  of  faith 
must  we  discover,  when  we  are  capable  of  preferring  a 
bauble  of  a house,  before  the  eternal  enjoyment  of  the 
Almighty  God  ; who  will  first  enlarge  all  the  capacities 
of  the  soul  to  love,  desire,  resemble,  and  adore  him  ; and 
then  abundantly  replenish  it  with  suitable  gratifications. 
There,  the  soul,  languishing  and  thirsting  after  wisdom 
and  truth,  will  have  free  access  to  the  blessed  and  eter- 
nal fountain  of  them,  to  satiate  itself  with  boundless 
draughts  of  delight:  there,  it  may  ever  gratify,  ever  sa- 


' ‘ Dies  iste,  quern  tanquam  extremum  reformidas,  seterni  natalis 
est.’ — Seneca,  Epist.  102. — Ed. 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  239 

tisfy,  without  ever  extinguishing,  its  unmeasurable  de- 
sires. For  the  pleasures  of  the  soul  are  quite  different 
from  those  of  sense,  which  are  destroyed  by  fruition  ; as 
they  must  needs  be,  since  pleasure,  which  has  its  entire 
existence  in  desire,  must  necessarily  increase  and  abate, 
live  and  perish,  with  it.  But,  though  I say  that  plea- 
sure has  its  existence  in  desire,  yet  desire  is  so  far  from 
being  productive  of  pleasure,  that  it  always  creates  pain 
and  uneasiness,  so  long  as  the  desire  remains  wholly 
unsatisfied.  For,  though  nothing  pleases  us,  but  what 
we  like  and  desire,  yet  we  must  have  some  sort  of  en- 
joyment of  what  we  like,  before  it  can  give  us  pleasure  : 
and,  for  this  reason,  the  hungering  and  thirsting  after 
righteousness,  is  very  different  from  the  hungering  and 
thirsting  after  meat  and  drink.  The  thirsting  of  David’s 
soul  after  the  living  God,  was  very  different  from  that 
of  the  hart  after  the  water  brooks,  though  the  allusion 
is  very  lively  and  elegant.  For  none  ever  thirst  after 
God  and  righteousness,  but  those  who,  in  some  measure, 
already  enjoy  the  one,  and  possess  the  other.  And, 
from  the  knowledge  of  the  pleasure  arising  from  that 
lesser  degree  of  enjoyment  and  possession,  they  are 
still  desiring  and  thirsting  after  a greater.  Happy,  not- 
withstanding, in  what  they  possess  and  enjoy,  and 
ravished  with  the  assured  expectation  of  a more  full  and 
complete  felicity,  full  in  its  abundance,  and  complete  in 
its  duration.  Whereas,  in  the  natural  hunger  and  thirst 
of  the  body,  it  is  pain  and  want  that  create  the  desire  ; 
and  pleasure  proceeds  only  from  the  ceasing  of  the  pain, 
and  relieving  of  the  want ; which  makes  it  differ  ex- 
tremely from  the  other  cases,  where  «he  want  of  enjoy- 
ment is  continually  relieved,  and  the  present  supplies, 
which  God  affords  to  the  eager  desire,  at  once  gratify 
and  inflame  it.  There  are  but  two  things,  which,  were 
they  not  both  limited  by  entire  resignation  to  the  will  of 
my  God,  would  make  me  desirous  of  life  ; the  one  for 
my  own  advantage,  the  other  for  my  dear  child’s.  And 
I most  humbly  implore  of  thee,  my  ever  gracious  Lord, 
to  grant  me  for  myself,  to  live  till  thou  hast  so  far  per- 
fected my  faith,  love,  obedience,  and  sorrow  for  having 
ever  offended  thee,  that  I may  be  received  into  thy  ever- 
lasting favor.  Which  I have  confidence,  through  thy 
infinite  mercy,  and  through  the  mediation  of  thy  blessed 


240  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

Son  .Tesus  Christ,  that  thou  wilt  grant  me,  and  not 
suffer  thy  poor  servant  to  perish  for  ever.  And,  for  my 
dear  child,  I humbly  commit  both  her  and  myself  to  thy 
protection  ; and  beg,  that  thou  wilt  graciously  be  pleas- 
ed to  bless  her  with  a continued  innocence  and  purity 
of  life  ; bestowing  upon  her  plentifully  of  thy  grace  and 
wisdom,  and  making  her  thy  accepted  servant,  to  trust 
in  thee,  to  love  thee,  and  to  obey  thee  faithfully,  all  the 
days  of  her  life,  that  thou  mayest  give  her  eternal  bliss 
in  thy  heavenly  kingdom.  . And,  for  her  instruction  in 
virtue,  my  tenderness  inclines  me  to  wish  to  live  to  see 
her  confirmed  in  it.  For  I must  confess,  that  in  my 
conflicts  with  aversion  to  death,  and  love  of  the  world, 
when  I consider  her  youth,  and  the  scarcity  of  friends, 
I always  find  that  the  weakest,  and  worst-guarded  part, 
in  which  I can  be  assaulted.  But  I must  humbly  resign 
both  her  and  myself,  to  the  determination  of  thy  divine 
will ; which  I beg  may  always  be  done  ; and  that  thou 
wilt  ever  make  mine  most  joyfully  conformable  to  it. 
In  full  confidence  that  thou  wilt  answer  my  humble  pe- 
tition, to  make  my  dear  child  a virtuous  woman,  zeal- 
ously mindful  evermore  to  perform  her  duty  to  thee,  by 
such  ways  and  methods  as  thou,  in  thy  infinite  wisdom 
and  mercy,  shall  think  fit. 

LXXXII.  Where  there  is  not  a strong  faith,  there 
can  be  no  love  ; where  there  is  no  love,  there  can  be  no 
desire  *,  where  there  is  no  desire,  there  is  no  notion  or 
conception  of  beauty;  and,  where  there  is  no  notion  or 
conception  of  beauty,  there  can  be  no  delight : and,  by 
consequence,  there  is  no  beauty  in  that  holiness  which  is 
not  supported  by  faith,  and  pursued  with  delight.  O 
grant  me,  my  most  adorable  God,  evermore  to  serve 
thee  in  the  beauty  of  holiness  ; and  give  me  all  those 
graces  and  virtues,  which  are  necessary  for  so  glorious, 
so  sublime  a performance  ! 

LXXXIII.  So  teach  me,  great  God,  to  number  my 
days,  that  I may  apply  my  heart  unto  wisdom  ! This  is 
an  arithmetic  truly  worth  learning  ; most  of  our  errors 
being  committed  for  want  of  a right  calculation  of  time 
and  eternity  ; for  want  of  computing  how  much  we  have 
to  do  in  time,  and  how  long  to  continue  in  eternity : 
how  unspeakable  the  concern  ; how  short  and  uncertain 
the  preparation.  Display,  good  Lord,  I beseech  thee, 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  241 

to  my  understanding,  the  inestimable  treasures  of  thy 
truth  ; the  only  treasures  of  which  I am  ambitious  ; the 
knowledge  of  thy  truth  being  that  invaluable  pearl  of 
wisdom,  which  I am  most  desirous  to  purchase  at  any 
rate.  Instruct  me  in  all  my  addresses  to  thee,  and  dic- 
tate all  my  petitions  ; grant  that  they  may  always  be  for 
those  things  that  may  tit  me  to  please  thee,  and  not  for 
such  as  may  be  the  fittest  to  please  myself;  and,  for  an 
accumulation  of  blessing,  so  influence  my  soul  with  thy 
divine  Spirit,  that  thy  will  may  ever  be  my  pleasure. 

LXXXIV.  Every  man,  when  he  perceives  the  near 
approach  of  death,  finds  it  reasonable  to  betake  himself 
to  hearty  prayer  for  the  mercy  and  favor  of  God.  And 
can  any  one  be  so  infatuated,  as  to  think  it  fit  to  pass  his 
whole  life  in  an  entire  ignorance  and  neglect  of  that  Al- 
mighty Being,  to  whom  at  last  he  will  be  obliged  to 
resort  as  to  his  only  refuge  and  support  ? But  so  much, 
in  poor  man,  does  base  fear  prevail  above  reason  ; so 
much  stronger  an  influence  has  the  terror  of  almighty 
power,  over  man’s  degenerate  spirit,  than  the  charming 
allurements  of  infinite  bounty  and  goodness  I 

LXXXV.  How  faint  are  the  impressions  which  truth 
usually  makes  upon  the  mind  of  man  ! not  for  want  of 
force  in  the  one,  but  through  the  obduracy  of  the  other. 
What  an  unhappy  skill  has  vice  and  folly,  in  forging 
such  wretchedly  hardened  armor  for  the  soul,  as  will 
not  suffer  it  to  be  penetrated  by  truth,  though  never  so 
sharp  and  piercing  ! A miserable  defence  -against  an 
instrument  that  is  never  employed  to  wound,  but  to 
cure  ; but  a treacherous  shield,  that  never  opposes  those 
cruel  weapons,  which  give  not  only  wounds,  but  death. 

LXXXVI.  If  the  passions  of  men  make  their  lives 
uncomfortable,  and  are  hardly  to  be  endured,  for  so 
short  a space,  how  can  they  be  borne  with,  when  they 
shall  become  eternal?  For  I take  it  for  granted,  that 
one  mighty  torment  of  damnation  will  be  an  excessive 
heightening  and  enlarging  of  all  the  passions,  ivith  an 
utter  deprivation  of  any  prospect  of  enjoyment.  But, 
on  the  other  side,  if  the  love  of  wisdom  and  virtue  be  so 
SAveet  and  delightful  to  the  soul  in  this  its  imperfect 
state,  what  floods  and  torrents  of  joy  will  be  poured  in 
upon  it,  when  all  its  affections  shall  be  boundlessly  and 
eternally  enlarged  for  their  reception  ? As  doubtless 
21 


242  - DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

they  will  be,  to  the  inconceivable  bliss  of  those  most 
happy  souls,  who  shall  be  received  into  the  everlasting 
favor  of  the  Almighty.  And  that  I,  and  my  dear  child, 
may  be  of  that  blessed  number,  grant,  my  most  merciful 
God,  I humbly  beseech  thee,  for  the  sake  of  thy  dear 
Son  Jesus  Christ,  our  Saviour  ! 

LXXXVII.  Honesty  is  like*  a strong  perfume  : one 
little  grain  of  it  suffices  to  enrich  a great  mass,  that  had 
neither  scent  nor  value  before.  How  little  honesty  is 
there  in  the  world  ! and  yet,  what  numbers  of  men, 
that  by  some  or  other  are  termed  honest ! A small 
proportion  of  this  noble,  though  unfashionable  virtue, 
is  sufficient  to  gain  the  vulgar  esteem  ; though  the  most 
of  it,  that  one  who  truly  endeavors  to  be  an  honest 
man,  can  make  himself  master  of,  will  scarce  give  him  a 
tolerable  opinion  of  himself : for  here  it  is  requisite, 
that  his  desires  should  enlarge  themselves  beyond  what 
he  possesses  ; or  else,  a very  moderate  degree  of  it  vv  ill 
make  him  sit  down  contented.  Some  men  are  satisfied, 
if  they  can  but  shelter  themselves  from  ignominy,  under 
the  shadow  of  honesty ; and  others,  if  they  have  but 
enough  of  it  to  procure  them  a pretty  good  reputation, 
have  as  much  as  they  desire  ; and,  I am  sure,  if  the  es- 
teem of  unthinking  people  were  of  any  value,  much 
more  than  they  deserve,  since  that  is  all  they  aim  at. 
Thus  the  first  sort  betake  themselves  to  honesty,  as  they 
would  to  a spreading  tree  in  a storm,  only  for  shelter 
and  protection  ; the  latter  make  use  of  it,  as  they  who 
want  true  ones,  do  of  false  jewels,  to  amuse  the  world 
with  their  counterfeit  lustre,  and  deceitfully  to  procure 
themselves  that  respect,  to  which  they  had  no  just  title. 
What  worth,  then,'*  must  there  be  in  the  thing  itself, 
whose  bare  appearance  can  give  protection,  and  confer 
esteem ! But,  as  honesty  deserves  diligently  to  be 
sought  after,  so  it  is  most  difficult  to  be  acquired  ; being, 
as  I may  say,  an  elixir  extracted  from  all  the  virtues  ; 
never  right,  when  any  one  of  them  is  wanting  in  its 
composition.  For,  it  is  not  enough  to  be  honest  only 
so  long  as  a man  may  be  honest  without  disadvantage  ; 
he  ought  to  be  so  at  the  peril  of  all  he  is  worth.  Nor 
is  it  sufficient  to  be  honest  only  so  long  as  a man  may 
be  honest  with  safety  ; he  ought  to  preserve  his  inte- 
grity at  the  expense  of  his  life.  He  that  designs  to  be  a 


HOW.J 


DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 


243 


real  honest  man,  must  think  that  the  most  honorable 
character  he  can  possibly  aspire  to  ; and  must  have  the 
least  falsehood  or  injustice  in  as  great  a detestation,  as 
murder  or  blasphemy.  So  far  must  he  be  from  doing 
wilfully  a dishonest  action,  that  his  soul  must  abhor  a 
dishonest  thought.  In  short,  he  ought  to  be  immovea- 
ble and  unshaken  ; neither  to  be  deterred  by  fear,  nor 
allured  by  advantage,  but  to  be  proof  against  all  tempt- 
ations ; and  he  should  value  his  sincerity  equally  with 
the  favor  of  his  God,  believing  that  he  shall  undoubtedly 
forfeit  the  one,  v/henever  he  foregoes  the  other. 

LXXXVIII.  Wisdom,  which  is  sometimes  called  ho- 
liness, sometimes  righteousness,  is  that  vital  principle, 
whose  separation  is  as  fatal  to  the  sou],  as  the  separa- 
tion of  the  soul  is  to  the  body.  It  is  that  lamp  of  iaith, 
which  enlightens  it,  and  introduces  into  it  those  beau- 
ties and  glories  of  the  divine  perfections,  which  irresisti- 
bly inflame  it  with  love  and  desire.  A love,  whose  pure 
fire  purges  the  ^oul  from  dross  and  impurity ; a love, 
that  utters  peace  and  pardon  to  it;  a love,  that  van- 
quishes sin,  and  triumphs  over  temptation.  Great  God, 
I beseech  they,  cleanse  and  enlarge  all  the  clogged  and 
narrow  passages  of  my  soul,  that  thy  glories  may  rush 
in,  and  perpetually  feed  it  with  this  divine  flame,  con- 
stantly to  ascend,  with  an  uncontrollable  motion,  in 
praises  and  adorations,  to  thy  heavenly  throne  ! 

LXXXIX.  I make  no  doubt,  that  many  people  would 
be  apt  to  judge,  by  my  way  of  living,  and  by  what  I 
write,  that  my  thoughts  and  life  are  the  effects  of  a dis- 
mal melancholy.  Which  is  a great  mistake.  For,  I 
thank  God,  they  are  both  of  them  the  effect  of  his  infi- 
nite goodness,  as  they  are  the  cause  of  a far  more  se- 
rene and  pleasant  life,  than  ever  I led  under  the  con- 
duct of  folly  and  passion.  My  vicious  inclinations 
made  me  but  too  well  acquainted  with  the  pleasures  that 
most  men  are  so  fond  of ; nor  did  I naturally  want 
pride  and  ambition,  sufficient  to  have  pushed  me  to  the 
utmost  extravagance  of  endeavoring  to  procure  riches 
and  honor.  But  my  gracious  God,  whom  I can  never 
enough  love  and  adore,  for  his  invaluable  mercies  to 
me,  has  clearly  discovered  to  my  reason,  the  wretched 
folly  of  such  pursuits  ; and  has  so  far  strengthened  it, 
as  not  to  suffer  it  to  be  overpowered  and  dazzled,  with 


244  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

such  childish  and  gaudy  vanities.  So  that  my  contempt 
of  the  world  and  its  advantages,  is  not  for  want  of 
knowing  the  value  of  them  ; but  that  very  knowledge 
makes  me  despise  them.  It  is  natural,  amongst  men 
that  are  ignorant  of  what  it  is  that  dictates  and  governs 
their  own  thoughts,  and  the  thoughts  of  others,  to  won- 
der at  any  body  whose  judgment  and  opinion  differs 
from  their  own  ; not  considering  that  the  same  diver- 
sity of  judgment  and  opinion  causes  the  same  astonish- 
ment on  the  other  side.  But  that  wonder  ceases,  when, 
by  reason  and  reflection,  a man  is  led  to  an  insight  of 
that  common  nature,  which  he  shares  with  the  rest  of 
mankind.  For  then  he  readily  discovers  the  sources 
and  causes  of  all  their  severally  different  opinions,  and 
the  various  conceptions  arising  from  each  passion,  as  far 
as  the  windings  of  such  an  intricate  labyrinth  are  capa- 
ble of  being  traced.  No  wise  man,  therefore,  will  won- 
der even  at  the  folly  of  another ; because  I take  it  for 
granted,  that  the  wisest  of  men,  now-a-days,  have  found 
difficulty  enough  to  overcome  their  own  folly,  and  to  re- 
strain their  still  natural  propensity  to  it.  Which  will 
incline  them,  not  only  to  be  thankful  to  that  infinite 
wisdom,  which  has  so  graciously  communicated  itself  to 
them,  but,  to  be  very  compassionate  of  the  weaknesses 
and  follies  of  other  men,  and  heartily  to  wish  and  pray 
for  their  relief.  But  a presumptuous,  inconsiderate  fool 
has  no  mercy  for  those  who  have  different  sentiments 
from  his  own  ; which  is  the  cause  of  so  much  blind 
zeal,  and  so  many  barbarous  persecutions,  as  have  been 
in  the  world ; men  in  power  and  authority,  being  unrea- 
sonably bent  to  model  the  opinions  of  others  exactly  to 
their  own,  without  considering  or  caring  whether  they 
be  right  or  wrong  ; and  without  imagining,  that  they 
have  any  dependence  upon  any  being  greater  or  wiser 
than  themselves. 

XC.  It  would  seem  strange,  perhaps,  should  I say 
that  it  is  a sin  to  be  miserable,  and  that  it  is  a sin  not 
to  be  happy.  But  yet,  when  narrowly  examined,  I 
believe  it  will  appear  no  more  strange  than  true.  For 
the  effect  must  needs  partake  of  the  cause,  and  misery 
must  therefore  be  undoubtedly  sinful,  because  it  is  ac- 
knowledged to  be  the  offspring  of  sin.  But  there  are 
two  sorts  of  miseries  incident  to  mankind ; the  one  not 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  245 

to  be  avoided,  and  therefore  to  be  pitied ; the  other  to 
be  remedied,  and  therefore  inexcusable.  The  former 
sort  are  such  as  are  occasioned  by  bodily  indispositions, 
the  latter  are  the  diseases  of  a vicious  mind.  To  the  mise- 
ries of  a distempered  body,  we  are  enslaved  by  nature ; 
to  those. of  a distempered  mind,  we  voluntarily  submit. 
In  the  former  case,  we  want  power  to  break  our  chain ; 
in  the  latter,  we  want  will  to  obtain  our  freedom.  I 
think  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  it  is  a sin  to  be  miserable 
through  the  vice  of  the  mind ; since  it  is  apparent  that 
those  miseries  generally  proceed  either  from,  desiring 
things  vicious  or  impossible,  or  from  dreading  things 
natural  or  unavoidable ; in  all  which  cases,  we  are 
guilty  of  disobeying  or  repining  at  the  will  of  God,  to 
which  we  ought  cheerfully  and  in  all  humility  to  submit; 
for,  by  desiring  things  vicious,  we  discover  our  disobedi- 
ence ; by  desiring  things  impossible,  we  demonstrate  our 
impiety;  and,  by  dreading  things  natural  and  unavoid- 
able, we  betray  our  infidelity..  Thus,  it  being  proved 
that  it  is  a sin  to  be^  miserable,  it  will  follow,  by  unde- 
niable consequence,  that  it  is  a sin  not  to  be  happy.  It 
is  evident  that  true  happiness  consists  in  such  a peace- 
ful tranquillity  and  contentment  of  mind,  as  is  neither 
to  be  ruffled  by  fear,  nor  discomposed  by  desire.  And 
it  is  as  certain  that  such  a blessed  temper  can  never  be 
obtained  without  faith,  love,  obedience,  and  submission, 
in  their  several  relations  to  God,  and  all  of  them  to  a 
great  perfection.  Now,  happiness  resulting  from  the 
union  of  these  virtues,  and  the  want  of  any  one  of  them 
being  sinful,  it  must  be  granted  that  it  is  a sin  not  to  be 
happy. 

XCI.  Whosoever  thinks  himself  wise  enough,  or 
virtuous  enough,  is  in  a fair  way  never  to  be  either. 
He  that  engages  in  those  difficult  paths  must  keep  in 
perpetual  motion ; there  is  no  stopping  without  losing 
ground.  He  must  consider,  that  if  his  undertaking  be 
glorious,  it  is  also  laborious ; that  he  has  a strong  tide 
to  stem,  which,  if  he  does  not  keep  resolutely  advanc- 
ing, will  inevitably  bear  him  down  the  stream.  The 
current  of  passion  is  fierce  and  rapid,  not  to  be  resisted 
by  feeble  reason  and  wavering  resolution.  But  if  the 
difficulties  to  be  overcome  be  great,  the  prize  to  be 
obtained  exceeds  all  value.  He,  therefore,  whose  noble 
2P 


246  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

ambition  pushes  him  to  the  pursuit  of  wisdom  and  vir- 
tue, must  not  be  discouraged  at  their  height ; nor  must 
he  think  to  rest  upon  the  steep  ascent  of  those  aspiring 
mountains  which  hide  their  lofty  tops  in  heaven  ; thither 
we  must  climb  before  we  can  reach  them,  securely  to 
sit  down  and  enjoy  eternal  happiness  and  repose. 

XCII.  It  fares  with  a feeble  mind,  too  weak  to  resist 
the  powerful  assaults  made  upon  it  by  the  cares,  neces- 
sities, and  contingencies  of  life, — as  it  does  with  the 
poor  bee  in  a windy  day,  who,  spying  the  flowers 
which  aflbrd  honey,  makes  eager  attempts  to  settle 
upon  them ; but  the  impetuous  storm  drives  it  away, 
and  often  obliges  it  to  rest  upon  some  tasteless  plant, 
from  whence  it  can  extract  nothing  that  is  useful,  no- 
thing that  is  sweet.  And  in  the  same  manner  the  in- 
constant mind,  not  sufliciently  upheld  by  wisdom  and 
virtue,  is  apt  to  be  hurried  from  the  objects  of  its  plea- 
sure and  happiness,  and  forced  to  fix  upon  such  objects 
as  not  only  yield  it  neither,  but  envenom  it  w ith  anxiety 
and  disquiet. 

XCIII.  Either  we  owe  no  obedience  to  God  Al- 
mighty, or  else  w^e  owe  the  most  exact  obedience  that 
it  is  possible  for  us  to  pay  him.  For,  if  any  duty  be- 
longs to  him,  it  must  necessarily  be  the  most  perfect 
duty  that  the  utmost  capacity  of  our  nature  can  enable 
us  to  perform ; even  as  perfect  as  an  indigent  creature 
is  capable  of  expressing  to  his  bountiful  Creator. 

XCIV.  No  ! By  the  grace  of  God,  justice  and  equity, 
not  favor  and  interest,  shall  be  the  pillars  I will  make 
use  of  to  support  my  fortune  in  the  w^orld.  When  those 
are  too  weak  to  uphold  it,  let  it  take  its  chance.  And  I 
liope  I should  be  able  to  take  the  same  course,  if  my 
life  itself  were  the  stake  at  issue.  For  I had  much 
rather  lose  my  right  or  my  life,  by  another  man’s  in- 
justice, than  obtain  the  one,  or  preserve  the  other,  by 
any  base  pursuit,  or  unw^orthy  application  of  my  own. 
Nor  shall  1 ever  value,  or  seek  for,  any  favor  but  that  of 
my  God  ; to  whom  he  that  has  grace  enough  to  com- 
mit himself,  may  with  security  enough  commit  his  for- 
tune. Of  him,  therefore,  I humbly  beg  to  dispose  both 
of  me  and  of  mine,  perfectly  according  to  his  own  plea- 
sure; trusting  that  he  will  always  vouchsafe  to  support 
my  faith,  whatever  else  he  shall  permit  to  fail  me. 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  247 

XCV.  Faith,  that  fruitful  parent  of  all  other  graces, 
can  never  be  too  carefully  cultivated  and  improved.  It 
is  the  source  of  pleasure,  the  lamp  of  wisdom,  and  the 
soul  of  virtue.  It  is  that  mysterious  ladder  by  which 
the  soul  ascends  to  heaven,  and  heaven  descends  to  the 
soul ; by  which  a joyful  correspondence  is  continually 
held  between  it  and  its  Creator.  Faith  is  that  celestial 
flame  which  purifies  the  soul  from  dross  and  pollution, 
and  which  opens  in  it  a new  and  glorious  scene,  gilded 
with  the  ineffable  brightness  of  the  Deity,  adorned  with 
the  inconceivable  delights  of  blissful  eternity,  and  en- 
riched with  holy  hope,  pure  desires,  love  divine,  and 
joy  unutterable. 

XCVI.  No  man  can  truly  be  termed  an  honest  man, 
who  is  capable  of  being  moved,  by  any  temptation 
whatsoever,  to  be  dishonest.  For,  though  there  were 
but  one  temptation  in  the  world  that  had  power  to  work 
that  effect,  yet  such  a person  still  lies  under  the  possi- 
bility of  being  an  ill  man.  And  the  best  that  can  be 
said  of  him  is,  that  he  is  honester  than  thousands  of 
others,  and  has  but  that  one  unhappy  exception  to  his 
being  a perfectly  upright  and  virtuous  man.  A citadel 
may  be  called  strong,  in  comparison  of  a weaker,  be- 
cause it  can  hold  out  a longer  siege;  but  if  any  force  be 
able  to  make  it  surrender,  it  cannot  be  called  impreg- 
nable ; neither  can  the  soul  of  man  be  positively  termed 
virtuous,  till  it  is  so  fortified  as  to  become  impregnable 
against  all  manner  of  vice. 

XCVII.  Virtue  and  vice  are  words  better  known  in 
the  world  by  their  sound,  than  by  their  true  meaning. 
Men  take  the  liberty  to  give  such  an  interpretation  to 
them,  as  is  most  suitable  to  their  own  fancy  and  inclina- 
tion. But  he  who  thinks  it  necessary  to  lead  a virtuous 
life,  and  designs  to  apply  himself  heartily  to  the  doing 
so,  must  come  to  a better  and  juster  understanding  of 
what  the  things  are,  that  are  really  meant  by  those 
words.  I take  it,  that  virtue  consists  in  acting  conform- 
ably to  the  divine  attributes  and  perfections  of  God  ; 
and  vice,  in  acting  in  opposition  and  contradiction  to 
those  perfections.  This  latter  is  very  properly  called 
sinning  against  God,  as  offending  not  only  against  his 
commands  but  against  his  very  essence.  For,  as  acting 
falsely  and  deceitfully,  oppressively  and  unjustly,  cruelly 


248  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

and  maliciously,  covetously  or  impurely,  is  acting  vi- 
ciously, because  plainly  against  the  attributes  of  truth, 
justice,  mercy,  bounty,  and  purity,  in  God;  so,  acting 
faithfully  and  sincerely,  generously  and  justly,  kindly 
and  mercifully,  charitably  and  temperately,  is  acting 
virtuously,  because  in  conformity  to  those  several 
divine  attributes.  And,  as  every  reasonable  man  must 
conceive  the  Deity  to  be  the  exact  model  of  perfection, 
so  he  must  necessarily  contemplate  him  as  the  model 
of  his  most  exact  imitation. 

XCVIII*.  Strife  and  contest  are  evidences  of  differ- 
ence and  contrariety ; and  difference  and  contrariety 
demonstrate  clearly  a plurality  of  principles ; for  where 
there  is  unity  there  is  no  contradiction ; all  contest 
must  at  least  be  between  two.  Fire  being  of  an  un- 
compounded  nature,  has  no  variance  in  itself,  but  an 
addition  of  water  to  it  causes  a strife,  and  plainly  dis- 
covers a diversity  of  elements.  Thus  man,  were  he  a 
simple,  uncompounded  principle,  would  never  find  any 
strife  or  contradiction  in  himself,  any  more  than  there 
is  in  other  animals,  in  whom  no  such  thing  can  be  per- 
ceived. But,  being  compounded  of  the  two  very  differ- 
ent principles  of  soul  and  body,  he  is  sensible  of  con- 
tinual disputes  and  contradictions  in  himself;  which,  I 
think,  is  a very  sufficient  demonstration  of  the  existence 
of  those  two  different  principles  of  soul  and  body  in  his 
composition.  Nay,  further,  there  is  a possibility  of  the 
one  being  pleased,  while  the  other  grieves  ; of  the  one 
being  delighted,  while  the  other  feels  pain,  as  has  been 
evident,  in  men  that  have  chosen  to  suffer  punishment, 
rather  than  do  a vicious  unjustifiable  action.  And, 
though  it  is  sufficiently  known,  that  the  body  abhors 
pain  and  dissolution,  yet  there  have  been  those  who 
have  rejoiced  in  flames  and  delighted  in  death.  A ma- 
nifest triumph  of  the  soul  over  the  body,  which  shows  it 
to  be  not  only  a different  but  a far  more  excellent  prin- 
ciple, than  any  thing  in  mere  corporeal  life. 

XCIX.  I have  formerly  had  it  in  my  thoughts,  that 
imperfection  is  an  undeniable  argument  of  perfection  ; 
which  I find  confirmed  by  this  further  reflection,  that 
whatsoever  is  imperfect,  has  some  degrees  of  perfection 
in  it ; as  a part  has  some  portion  of  the  whole,  and  is  an 
argument  of  a whole.  If,  therefore,  that  which  is  im- 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  249 

perfect  has  some  degree  of  perfection,  as  must  be  ac- 
knowledged, then  it  is  plain  that  there  is  such  a thing  as 
perfection ; since  it  is  impossible  that  there  should  be 
any  degrees  of  a thing  which  is  not.  The  next  inquiry 
must  be,  where  is  this  perfection  lodged  ? It  is  evi- 
dently not  in  the  insensible,  nor  in  the  brutish  part  of  the 
creation  ; nor  yet  in  man,  to  whom  his  little  portion  of 
reason  must  clearly  evidence  that  it  is  not  in  him  ; 
though  it  as  clearly  discovers  that  imperfection  is  in 
him.  Where  then  shall  we  seek  it,  or  expect  to  find  it, 
but  in  thee,  O infinitely  perfect,  all-wise,  all-mighty,  all- 
glorious,  and  all-bountiful  God  ! My  soul,  then,  most 
humbly  adores  thee,  and  begs  this  inestimable  blessing, 
that  thou  wilt  enable  it  most  fervently,  sincerely,  unin- 
terruptedly, and  acceptably,  to  love,  serve,  and  adore 
thee,  from  this  moment  to  all  eternity,  for  Jesus  Christ 
his  sake,  thy  blessed  son,  my  most  merciful  Redeemer  ; 
to  whom,  with  thee,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  one  great 
God,  be  evermore  attributed  all  honor,  power,  praise, 
majesty,  and  perfection  ! 

C.  We  can  assign  an  end  for  the  creation  of  all  beasts, 
fowls,  fishes,  trees,  and  plants,  and  even  of  the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars  ; namely,  for  the  use,  support,  and  con- 
venience of  man.  And  can  it  be  imagined,  that  man 
was  made  for  no  other  end,  than  to  consume  and  devour 
the  rest  of  the  creation  ; and  that  he  himself  is  a useless, 
worthless,  insignificant  thing,* -though  lord  and  master 
of  the  whole  earth  ? Great  God  ! that  thou,  whose 
power,  wisdom,  and  glory  shine  so  bright  in  all  thy 
works,  shouldst  yet  remain  almost  undiscovered  to  thy 
creature  man  ; on  whom  thou  hast  bestowed  a rational 
soul,  on  purpose  to  enable  him  to  arrive  at  the  felicity 
of  knowing,  loving,  obeying,  and  adoring  thee.  Which, 
grant  that  I may  faithfully  perform  ; and  account  those 
duties  the  highest  excellences  and  advantages  of  my 
being  ; and  enjoy  the  blessing  of  them  to  all  eternity  ! 

Cl.  Upon  whatsoever  foundation  happiness  is  built, 
when  that  foundation  fails,  happiness  must  be  destroyed. 
It  is  wisdom,  therefore,  to  choose  such  a foundation  for 
it,  as  is  not  liable  to  destructive  accidents.  If  happiness 
be  founded  upon  riches,  it  lies  at  the  mercy  of  theft,  de- 
ceit, oppression,  war,  and  tyranny  ; if  upon  fine  houses 
and  costly  furniture,  one  spark  of  fire  is  able  to  consume 


250  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

it ; if  upon  wife,  children,  friends,  health,  or  life,  a thou- 
sand diseases,  and  ten  thousand  fatal  accidents,  have 
power  to  destroy  it.  But  if  it  be  founded  upon  the  in- 
finite bounty  and  goodness  of  God,  and  upon  those 
virtues  that  entitle  to  his  favor,^its  foundation  is  immove- 
able, and  its  duration  eternal. 

ClI.  Could  I ever  sufficiently  value  the  worth  and 
benefit  of  that  noble  virtue,  faith,  I might  be  induced  to 
think  I had  already  mentioned  it  often  enough.  But 
every  degree  of  advancement  in  the  knowledge  of  it, 
discovers  such  infinite  beauties  and  excellences,  that, 
were  I to  live  a thousand  years,  and  w^ere  able  to  em- 
ploy my  whole  time  in  meditating  upon  this  one  incom- 
parable virtue  alone,  I must,  of  necessity,  leave  much 
more  unthought  and  una,dmired  concerning  it,  than  my 
mind,  by  such  slow  progresses  as  it  is  now  capable  of 
making  toward  wisdom  and  knowledge,  could  possibly, 
in  that  space  of  time,  comprehend.  This,  to  many  peo- 
ple, might  seem  a studied  encomium,  rather  than  an 
urgent  truth.  But  I do  not  desire  to  amuse  myself  with 
such  trifling  conceits  : truth  is  the  thing  I labor  after ; 
and  I hope  that  great  Being,  who  is  environed  with  the 
bright  glories  of  it,  will  vouchsafe  to  shed  a portion  of 
its  pure  enlightening  rays  upon  my  soul,  darkened  and 
clouded  wdthsin  and  ignorance.  , If  the  expression  will 
be  allowed,  I may  say,  that  there  is  as  great  a variety  of 
climates  in  the  mind  of  man,  as  there  is  in  the  globe  of 
the  earth.  The  one  occasioned  by  the  nearness  or  dis- 
tance of  faith,  as  the  other  is  by  the  vicinity  or  remote- 
ness of  the  sun  ; the  former  shedding  the  same  happy 
influences  upon  the  soul,  as  the  latter  does  upon  the 
world.  They  who,  by  a near  approach,  bask  in  the 
beams  of  that  illustrious  virtue,  like  the  inhabitants  of 
Spain  and  Italy,  enjoy  the  serenity  and  delights  of  so 
fortunate  a situation  ; ever  gratified  with  the  rich  and 
delicious  fruits  which  are  its  natural  product.  While 
those  who,  by  an  unhappy  separation,  are  divided  from 
it,  and  have  but  rarely  the  benefit  even  of  its  short,  re- 
mote, and  imperfect  glances,  may  be  compared  to  the 
natives  of  Lapland  and  Norway,  doomed  and  confined 
to  uncomfortable  regions,  abounding  only  in  ice  and 
storms,  barrenness  and  obscurity. 

cm.  Virtue  requires  the  utmost  force,  application,  and 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  251 

exercise  of  the  mind,  both  in  order  to  its  acquisition  and 
preservation.  True  notions,  and  right  ideas,  are  not 
to  be  acquired  without  our  utmost  labor  and  industry  : 
nor  to  be  preserved,  without  unwearied  thought  and 
diligence.  And  yet,  it  is  absolutely  requisite  to  have 
both  true  notions,  and  right  ideas,  of  things  ; without 
which,  we  must  inevitably  make  a thousand  mistakes  in 
the  disposal  of  our  affections  and  aversions,  fatal  to  our 
present  tranquillity,  and  future  happiness.  For  we  can- 
not forbear  to  love  and  hate  according  to  our  ideas  of 
things  ; and  if  our  ideas  deceive  us,  we  shall  love  where 
we  should  hate,  and  hate  where  we  should  love.  From 
which  cause  it  is,  that  so  many  prefer  folly  and  vice  to 
wisdom  and  virtue  ; deceived  by  the  false  ideas  and  con- 
ceptions formed  in  the  mind  of  the  one  and  the  other. 
How  much,  then,  ought  we  to  love,  and  how  diligently 
to  seek  after  truth  ; which  is  the  original  of  all  our  hap- 
piness, as  falsehood  is  of  all  our  misery  ! It  is  faith,  it 
is  truth,  that  is  the  only  unerring  light,  which  can  guide 
and  conduct  the  soul  to  present  peace  and  eternal  felicity ; 
and  it  is  doubt  and  falsehood  which  endeavor  to  seduce 
it  from  both.  But,  after  all,  when  we  are  happy  enough 
to  have  obtained  right  ideas,  and  imprinted  them  upon 
the  soul,  we  have  then  done  but  half  our  work.  The 
other  no  less  difficult  part  is,  to  preserve  them  bright 
and  entire ; and,  by  continual  reflection  and  meditation, 
to  renew  those  impressions  which  they  have  made  : for 
as  these  decay,  our  affections,  as  well  as  our  aversions, 
will  grow  languid  toward  their  objects  ; till,  at  last,  by 
a long  neglect,  if  we  should  be  so  wretchedly  careless, 
virtue  and  vice  will  grow  indifferent  to  us  : and  that  in- 
difference, in  the  end,  will  naturally  terminate  in  the 
preference  of  vice,  and  the  rejection  of  virtue.  Than 
which,  there  is  but  one  greater  curse  attending  upon 
folly ; and  that  is,  the  soul’s  eternal  confinement  to  it, 
even  after  the  discovery  of  its  misery  and  deformity: 

Scorn  the  world,  abandon  folly. 

Purchase  faith,  that  glorious  treasure  ; * 

Faith  is  wisdom,  wisdom  virtue, 

Virtue  truth,  and  truth  is  pleasure. 

CIV.  I make  no  doubt  but  many  think  a contempla- 
tive life,  an  idle  life.  But  they  who  are  of  that  opinion, 
know  better  what  belongs  to  the  labor  of  the  hands  than 


252  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

to  that  of  the  mind ; to  the  force  of  the  body  than  to 
the  vigor  of  the  soul.  That  body  may  be  able  to  bear  a 
great  burthen,  which  would  find  itself  too  weak  to  sup- 
port the  violent  impulses  of  an  active  mind  ; and  would 
sooner  languish,  tire,  and  grow  lean,  with  mental  exer- 
cise, than  with  corporeal.  That  metal  would  resist 
the  weaker  assaults  of  a common  fire,  which  would  be 
immediately  forced  to  yield  and  dissolve,  by  the  subtile 
and  impetuous  flames  of  the  piercing  lightning.  The 
thinnest  bodies  make  the  most  quick  and  violent  impres- 
sions ; a rapid  stream  will  do  that  which  a cannon  bullet 
cannot  effect  ; and  the  furious  rage  of  a tempest  sur- 
passes the  force  of  water ; though  the  yet  thinner  body 
of  fire  is  less  to  be  resisted  than  both  the  former.  If, 
then,  the  most  solid  bodies  are  not  able  to  oppose  the 
efforts  of  those  which  are  more  thin  and  pure,  how  un- 
equal a match  is  flesh  and  blood,  to  the  violent  concus- 
sions of  an  active  spirit 

CV.  This  day,  I have  lived  forty-two  years  ; being 
born  in  the  year  1661.  And  I humbly  thank  my  most 
gracious  God,  for  having  given  me  life,  and  that  he  did 
not  destroy  it  whilst  it  was  miserably  clogged  with  sin 
and  folly.  I humbly  adore  thy  glorious  Majesty,  for 
having  given  me  a capacity  of  loving,  obeying,  and  con- 
templating thee  ; and,  consequently,  a foretaste  of  hap- 
piness eternal  in  the  adoration  of  thee.  Give  me,  I 
implore  thee,  a power  to  exercise  this  privilege  in  the 
most  perfect  manner  that  thy  infinite  bounty  shall  ena- 
ble me  to  do  ; and  grant  that  the  remainder  of  my  life 
may  be  spent  in  the  exactest  performance  of  every  part 
of  my  duty  to  thee,  for  Jesus  Christ’s  sake. 

CVI.  In  any  adversity  that  happens  to  us  in  the  world, 
we  ought  to  consider  that  misery  and  affliction  are  not 
less  natural  than  snow  and  hail,  storm  and  tempest : and 


* ‘ It  is  an  acknowledged  truth,  that  the  most  yielding,  are  also  the 
most  powerful  agents  in  the  natural  world.  Those  finer  elements 
which  scarcely  afford  perceptible  resistance  to  our  touch,  are  yet,  in  the 
hands  of  Omnipotence,  the  great  movers  of  this  earthly  system  ; and 
we  learn  from  late  discoveries,  that  their  energy  increases  exactly  as 
their  substance  is  attenuated  and  refined  ; while  we  are  equally  assured, 
that  the  hardest,  the  most  unyielding,  and  most  impenetrable  bodies, 
are  absolutely  void  of  all  intrinsic  power.*’ — Jebb’s  Practical  Sermons, 
page  249. 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  253 

that  it  were  as  reasonable  to  hope  for  a year  without 
winter,  as  for  a life  without  trouble.  Life,  how  sweet 
soever  it  seems,  is  a draught  mingled  with  bitter  ingre- 
diAts.  Some  drink  deeper  than  others,  before  they 
come  at  these  ingredients  : but,  if  they  do  not  swim  at 
the  top  for  youth  to  taste  them,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  old 
age  will  find  them  thick  in  the  bottom.  And  it  is  the 
employment  of  faith  and  patience,  and  the  work  of  wis- 
dom and  virtue,  to  teach  us  to  drink  the  sweet  part  down 
with  pleasure  and  thankfulness,  and  to  swallow  the  bit- 
ter without  reluctance. 

evil.  He  that  has  pleasure  in  himself,  is  pleased  with 
every  thing  ; and  he  that  wants  that  pleasure,  is  pleased 
with  nothing : but  to  think  reasonably,  and  act  reason- 
ably, will  give  a man  pleasure  in  himself ; therefore  to 
think  reasonably  and  act  reasonably  is  the  sure  way  to 
be  happy.  To  illustrate  this  argument,  it  is  necessary 
to  consider,  that  the  pleasure  of  a fool  flows  from  things 
without  himself;  whereas  the  pleasure  of  a wise  man 
springs  up  within  himself:  the  former  arises  from  the 
bodily  senses,  the  latter  from  the  understanding ; the 
one  is  the  pleasure  of  the  body,  the  other  of  the  soul. 
Now,  it  is  evident,  that  the  body  has  not,  at  all  times, 
power  to  communicate  its  pleasure  to  the  soul ; no,  not 
even  to  the  soul  of  the  most  vicious  fool : which  makes 
its  pleasures  very  imperfect ; since  they  extend  but  to 
one-half  of  the  man.  But  the  pleasures  of  the  soul 
never  fail  to  communicate  themselves  to  the  body  ; and, 
by  that  communication,  are  rendered  as  perfect  as  our 
being  is  capable  of ; because  they  become  the  pleasures 
of  the  whole  man.  To  give  an  instance  of  this  : when 
envy,  anger,  grief,  or  any  other  passion,  disturbs  the 
mind,  all  the  gratifications  that  can  enter  by  the  senses 
of  the  body,  are  not  able  to  give  it  pleasure  ; nor  is  the 
man,  under  these  disturbances  of  mind,  capable  of  being 
happy.  But,  when  the  mind  is  freed  from  all  perplexing 
and  disquieting  passions,  and  is  at  liberty  both  to  think 
and  to  act  reasonably,  without  any  opposition  from  the 
body,  such  a happy  disposition  of  the  soul  necessarily 
diffuses  and  communicates  itself  to  the  body,  and  gives 
pleasure  to  the  whole  entire  man.  And,  under  this 
pleasing  temper  of  mind,  whatsoever  portion  of  plea- 
sure the  body  is  capable  of  contributing,  will  consider- 
22 


254 


DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 


[how. 

ably  raise  and  increase  the  stock  of  happiness,  which 
before  was  great  enough  not  to  stand  in  need  of  any 
addition.  Our  main  care,  therefore,  must  be,  not  to 
abandon  bodily  pleasures  that  are  innocent,  and  consist- 
ent with  wisdom  and  virtue,  since  they  are  capable  of 
contributing  to  our  happiness  ; but  to  avoid  laying  in 
too  lavishly  such  stores  of  them,  as  may  oppress  and 
stifle  the  supreme  reasonable  pleasure  of  the  mind  ; that 
flame  kindled  by  wisdom,  and  maintained  by  virtue  : 
without  which  it  is  impossible  to  enjoy  any  tolerable  or 
lasting  measure  of  happiness. 

CVIII.  Doubts  and  uncertainty  are  the  most  general 
roots  of  all  human  misery  and  discontent,  in  virtuous  as 
well  as  vicious  men.  The  vicious  man  often  doubts, 
that,  by  following  his  inclinations  he  may  destroy  his 
happiness  ; and  the  virtuous  man  will  be  sometimes  too 
apt  to  doubt,  that  he  has  in  vain  washed  his  hands  in  in- 
nocence ; and  that,  by  renouncing  his  inclinations,  he 
has  abandoned  his  happiness.  But  we  must  take  care 
not  to  permit  ourselves  to  think  that  we  are  out  of  the 
way,  because  we  walk  out  of  the  road  of  the  generality 
of  the  world  ; on  the  contrary,  we  may  rest  assured, 
that  the  narrowest  path,  and  where  we  And  the  least 
company,  is  the  right  way. 

CIX.  So  long  as  virtue  does  not  appear  lovely  to  a 
man,  it  is  in  vain  for  him  to  imagine  that  he  can  love 
God  ; since  it  is  impossible  to  love  the  author  of  the  in- 
junction, whilst  the  duty  enjoined  is  repugnant  and  dis- 
tasteful to  us.  Did  ever  a slothful  servant  cordially  love 
his  master  ? Or  did  ever  a faithful,  diligent  servant, 
who  was  convinced  of  the  reasonableness  of  all  his  mas- 
ter’s commands,  hate  him  ? No  : ivhere  duty  and  rea- 
son are  perfectly  reconciled,  affection  will  instantly  unite 
itself  to  them  ; and  then  obedience  will  become  not 
merely  an  easy,  but  a delightful  task. 

CX.  Grief  and  discontent  have  generally  their  foun- 
dation in  desire  : so  that,  whosoever  can  obtain  the 
sovereignty  over  his  desire,  will  be  master  of  his  happi- 
ness. On  the  other  hand,  all  such  desires  as  occasion 
grief  and  discontent,  are  founded  upon  weakness  or  ig- 
norance ; therefore,  we  must  gain  possession  of  the  con- 
trary qualities,  which  are  wisdom  and  constancy,  before 
we  can  reasonably  hope  to  be  masters  of  our  desires. 


HOW.]  DjJVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  255 

The  two  chief  heads,  to  which  all  human  griefs  and 
discontents  may  be  reduced,  bodily  pains  and  indispo- 
sitions excepted,  are  these ; either  we  desire  to  have 
what  we  cannot  possess,  or  else  we  desire  to  be  freed 
from  what  we  cannot  get  rid  of.  And  it  appears  plainly, 
that  both  these  sorts  of  desires  are  founded  upon  weak- 
ness and  Ignorance  ; being  founded  upon  impossibilities, 
which  it  must  be  either  weakness  or  ignorance  to  lan- 
guish after.  For,  if  the  things  which  we  desire  are  in 
our  own  power,  there  is  no  cause  of  grief ; and  if  they 
are  not,  it  is  vain  and  unreasonable  to  grieve.  Some- 
times, indeed,  we  make  ourselves  miserable,  by  desiring 
things  possible  ; but  then,  they  are  such  as  are  hurtful 
and  inconvenient : so  that,  in  this  case,  though  our 
desires  are  grounded  upon  possibility,  they  are  yet 
grounded  upon  inconsistency,  which  is  altogether  as 
bad ; since  the  gratification  of  such  desires  is  incompa- 
tible with  our  happiness.  Thus,  generally,  our  discon- 
tents are  owing  to  our  folly  and  impiety : to  our  folly, 
because  they  are  vain  and  fruitless  ; and  to  our  impiety, 
because  we  cannot  as  we  ought,  submit  to  the  divine 
will,  and  cheerfully  acquiesce  in  the  divine  determina- 
tions. A manifest  proof,  either  that  we  think  ourselves 
wise  enough  to  contrive  our  own  happiness  ; or  that  we 
mistrust  the  infinite  bounty  of  God,  lest  it  should  fall 
short  in  the  distribution  of  it  to  us.  As  to  grief  for  the  loss 
of  friends,  which  still  proceeds  from  impossible  desire, 
it  must  necessarily  flow  from  one  of  these  two  causes : 
either  that  we  think  their  death  a diminution  of  our 
happiness,  or  of  theirs  ; or  else  that  we  grieve  we  know 
not  why,  and,  consequently,  that  our  grief  is  unreason- 
able. If  the  diminution  of  our  own  enjoyment  cause 
our  lamentation,  we  are  moved  by  interest  and  self- 
love,  not  by  the  love  of  our  friend.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  diminution  of  our  friend’s  enjoyment  be  the  occa- 
sion of  it,  we  must  have  an  ill  opinion  of  his  condition. 
But,  if  our  felicity  depends  either  upon  friends,  or  any 
thing  else,  in  this  world,  it  is  very  uncertain  ; and  if  we 
conceive,  that  the  felicity  of  our  friends  is  entirely  de- 
pendent upon  the  present  union  of  soul  and  body,  our 
faith  is  as  doubtful  as  our  happiness.  O good  God, 
how  many  degrees  of  doubt  wilt  thou  allow  to  enter  into 
the  composition  of  saving  faith,  if  uncompounded  faith 


256  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

too  sublime  for  human  nature  ! If  ten  degrees  of 
doubt  for  one  of  faith,  will  not  be  accepted,  I fear  the 
number  of  those  who  are  saved  by  faith  is  very  small. 
O great  God,  increase  my  faith  ! Increase  the  faith  of 
all  mankind  that  have  it,  and  bestow  it  upon  those  who 
want  it,  out  of  thy  infinite  compassion.  And  let  the 
defects  of  our  faith  be  supplied  by  thy  mercyj  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Saviour. 

CXI.  I would  examine  whether  grief  be  an  effect  of 
infidelity  ; and  if  it  appear  to  be  so,  I am  sure  we  ought 
to  endeavor,  by  all  means,  as  far  as  possible,  to  banish  it 
out  of  our  souls.  Our  Saviour  tells  us,  that  a sparrow 
does  not  fall  to  the  ground  without  the  knowledge  and 
will  of  God,  and  that  the  very  hairs  of  our  head  are  num- 
bered ; by  which  doctrine  he  would  more  forcibly  in- 
culcate, that  nothing  befals  man  without  His  knowledge 
and  appointment.  Since,  therefore,  whatsoever  hap- 
pens to  man  in  this  world,  is  either  directed  by  the  will, 
or  consented  to  by  the  permission,  of  God,  what  ground 
has  grief  to  stand  tipon,  but  human  weakness  ? All  op- 
position to  the  will  of  God,  is  wrestling  with  his  power  ^ 
all  reluctance  to  his  appointments,  and  repining  at  them, 
is  contending,  so  far  as  man  is  able  to  contend,  with 
almighty  power,  by  condemning  and  disapproving  the 
exercise  of  it,  and  avowing  that  we  would  oppose  and 
contradict  it,  if  we  were  able  ; which  is  the  most  inso- 
lently-foolish  impiety  imaginable.  And,  for  things  that 
befal  us  through  the  bare  permission  of  God,  where  he 
does  not  exert  his  own  immediate  power  to  bring  them 
to  pass, — though  in  this  case  it  were  not  impious  to 
grieve,  yet  it  would  be  unreasonable ; since,  where 
there  is  a power,  and  a propensity,  in  any  means  suffi- 
cient to  effect  a thing,  unless  it  should  please  God  to  su- 
persede that  power,  which  he  does  not  think  fit  to  do, 
but  permits  it  to  act  according  to  its  own  propensity, — I 
say,  that,  in  this  case,  the  non-interposition  of  the  al- 
mighty power,  leaves  an  absolute  force  in  that  means,  to 
produce  that  effect : so  that,  the  accident  which  it  occa- 
sions is  as  inevitable,  as  if  it  had  been  actually  performed 
by  almighty  pow  er  ; and,  therefore,  it  w^ould  be  unrea- 
sonable to  lament  it.  Nay,  in  truth,  I think  myself 
obliged  upon  further  consideration  to  retract  my  saying, 
that  in  such  cases,  it  w^ould  be  no  impiety  to  grieve  ; 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  257 

because,  though  this  were  not  to  repine  at  Providence, 
for  doing  somethings  which  we  would  have  undone, 
yet  it  is  evidently  repining  at  it,  for  not  putting  a stop  to 
the  power  of  second  causes,  and,  by  consequence,  for 
not  doing  something  which  we  would  have  done  ; which 
is  the  same  thing  in  effect.  But  as  to  the  sort  of  grief 
which  I said  shared  of  impiety,  I mean  only  such  a grief 
as  is  occasioned  by  such  actions  as  are  the  appointment 
of  Divine  Providence,  and  not  by  such  as  he  permits  to 
be  within  the  compass  of  our  own  determination  and 
performance.  For  there  is  a grief  that  does  not  pro- 
ceed from  our  contradiction  to  the  will  of  God,  but  from 
our  having  acted  in  a manifest  contradiction  to  it,  which 
is  called  repentance.  And  though,  by  this  grief,  we 
cannot  revoke  the  sins  which  we  have  committed,  yet 
we  discover  by  it  our  inclination  and  desire,  if  it  were 
possible  to  revoke  them ; and  we,  thereby,  give  a testi- 
mony of  our  sincere  abhorrence  of  them,  and  of  our  pur- 
pose and  resolution  never  to  be  guilty  of  them  more. 
Which  grief  is  most  effectual  to  the  procuring  its  end, 
and  therefore  most  reasonable  : for,  though  it  does  not 
really  revoke  the  sin,  yet  it  actually  annuls  the  punish- 
ment which  would  have  attended  the  guilt  of  it ; and  has 
the  desired  effect  of  reinstating  the  sinner  into  the  same 
degree  of  God’s  favor,  which  he  enjoyed  before  the  com- 
mission of  it.  But  for  our  grief  for  the  loss  of  friends, 
all  that  can  be  said  of  it,  is  this,  that  there  is  a strong 
propensity  in  human  nature  to  lament  the  loss  of  any 
person  or  thing  that  is  agreeable  to  us,  and  contributes 
to  our  comfort  and  satisfaction  ; and  that  it  is  very  diffi- 
cult to  derive  a sufficient  power  from  reason  to  oppose 
its  efforts.  A man  must  not  pretend,  therefore,  to  claim 
an  exemption  from  grief  for  the  loss  of  his  friend,  who 
does  not  make  it  appear  from  the  rest  of  the  actions  of 
his  life,  that  he  uses  his  utmost  endeavors  to  govern 
himself  entirely  by  reason  ; to  subdue  his  passions,  and 
to  get  the  mastery  over  pleasure  as  well  as  over  grief : 
otherwise,  his  not  grieving,  will  be  an  evidence  rather 
of  his  ill-nature,  than  of  his  philosophy  and  religion. 
And  that  man  who  conforms  his  life  and  behavior  to 
the  usual  methods  and  customs  of  the  generality  of 
mankind  in  other  things,  ought  likewise  to  do  it  in  this  ; 
since  it  is  reasonable  to  imagine  that  his  thoughts,  in  th§ 
22^ 


258  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

main,  resemble  theirs  : and  death,  according  to  the 
common  notion  of  mankind,  being  looked  upon  as  the 
greatest  evil,  it  were  the  highest  pitch  of  ill-nature  in  a 
man  that  thinks  it  so,  not  to  lament  when  it  happens  to 
his  friend.  But  he  who  has  established  in  his  mind  a 
firm  belief,  that  death  is  no  evil ; but,  on  the  contrary, 
esteems  it  to  be  only  the  passage  to  perfect  felicity,  may 
justly  be  allowed  to  have  the  same  sentiments  of  it,  in 
relation  to  his  friend,  as  he  would  have  in  regard  to 
himself.  And  now,  having  been  so  long  on  »the  consi- 
deration of  grief,  in  order  to  a more  perfect  knowledge 
of  it  ; I will  enter  upon  that  of  another  affection  of  the 
soul  which  has  a very  close  connexion  with  it,  and 
which  is  inseparable  from  it ; and  that  is  love.  For  it 
is  plain  we  grieve,  because  we  love  either  ourselves  or 
something  else.  And  since  I have  discovered,  that 
grief  is  genei:ally  both  impious  and  unreasonable,  as  de- 
viating from  that  perfect  obedience  and  resignation 
which  we  owe  to  God,  and  therefore  is  not  allowable 
in  a wise  and  virtuous  man,  who  makes  it  his  endeavor 
to  know  and  perform  his  duty,  with  the  utmost  exact- 
ness he  is  able, — it  may  be  expected  that  I should  tell 
what  other  marks  and  demon'strations  a wise  and  virtu- 
ous man  can  give  of  his  love  ; which  I think  no  difficult 
task  to  do.  For,  if  grief  be  the  only  mark  of  his  love 
to  his  friend,  which  a man  is  able  to  give,  let  him  have 
as  sorrowful  a heart  as  he  pleases,  I would  not  give  a 
rush  for  his  friendship.  These,  in  my  opinion,  are  the 
true  properties  of  valuable  friendship — to  desire  to  have 
done,  and  to  endeavor  to  do,  all  imaginable  good  to 
those  we  love  ; to  assist  and  comfort  them,  as  far  as  we 
are  able,  while  they  are  in  a capacity  of  being  assisted 
and  comforted  by  us  ; to  contribute,  with  all  our  power 
and  skill,  to  their  satisfaction  and  happiness  ; to  be  as 
covetous  of  their  advantage  as  of  our  own  ; and,  when 
any  disaster  or  unhappy  accident  of  any  kind,  befals 
them,  to  ransack  all  the  faculties  of  our  souls  to  procure 
their  relief.  But  for  lamentation  when  a friend  is  no 
longer  in  a situation  to  receive  or  to  need  the  marks  of  our 
affection,  it  is  neither  beneficial  nor  reasonable,  either  in 
respect  of  our  friend  or  of  ourselves  ; though  the  wmrld, 
wdiose  love  generally  flows  only  from  their  tongues  and 
eyes,  may  think  tears  and  complaints  decent  things.  And 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  259 

thus,  they  would  make  an  easy  amends  by  hypocrisy, 
for  their  want  of  real  friendship. 

CXII.  It  is  as  impossible  for  a vicious  man,  under 
the  habit  and  power  of  vice,  to  conceive  what  is  the 
pleasure  of  a man  that  is  virtuous,  as  it  is  for  a beast  to 
conceive  what  is  his  pleasure.  A beast  is  not  endued 
with  such  a spirit  as  is  capable  of  receiving  the  ideas  of 
vice.  Neither  is  a vicious  man  endued  with  such  purity, 
brightness,  and  elevation  of  soul,  as  to  enable  him  to 
receive  and  apprehend  the  form  of  virtue.  And  conse- 
quently, he  is  as  great  a stranger  to  the  manner  of  a 
virtuous  man’s  thinking,  as  a beast  is  to  his  manner  of 
thinking. 

CXIII.  Amongst  great  numbers  of  men  accounted 
rich,  but  few  really  are  so.  I take  him  to  be  the  only 
rich  man  that  lives  upon  what  he  has,  owes  nothing, 
and  is  contented.  For  there  is  no  determinate  sum  of 
money,  nor  quantity  of  estate,  that  can  denote  a man 
rich ; since  no  man  is  truly  rich  that  has  not  so  much 
as  perfectly  satiates  his  desire  of  having  more.  For  the 
desire  of  more  is  want,  and  want  is  poverty. 

CXIV.  A fine  gentleman  may  as  well  think  to  go 
abroad  in  a blustering  day,  without  disordering  his 
dress,  as  a wise  man  may  fancy  that  he  can  abandon 
his  mind  to  the  trifling  business  and  hurry  of  the  world, 
without  disordering  his  thoughts. 

CXV.  Thought  is,  undoubtedly,  in  a great  measure 
governed  and  directed  by  the  affections ; which  shows 
the  necessity  of  subduing  the  affections  to  right  reason; 
otherwise  our  thoughts  can  never  be  reasonable ; and 
all  human  actions  are,  or  ought  to  be,  governed  by 
thought;  therefore,  such  as  the  thoughts  are  such  must 
be  the  actions,  equally  partaking  of  wisdom  or  folly. 
And  I doubt  that  folly,  by  the  natural  consequence  of 
this  argument,  has  the  greater  share  in  the  government 
of  the  world ; in  the  same  manner  as  Themistocles  said 
his  little  boy  governed  Athens — ‘For  this  child,’  said 
he,  ‘ governs  his  mother,  his  mother  me,  and  I the 
Athenians.’ 

CXVI.  Since  almost  every  man  in  these  parts  of  the 
world,  thinks  his  salvation  and  happiness  depend  upon 
his  being  a Christian,  it  is  highly  necessary  to  know 
what  is  the  true  meaning  of  the  word,  and  the  thing. 


DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 


[how. 


Christian.  In  order  to  which,  it  must  be  observed, 
that,  in  all  ages,  the  most  reasonable  men  have  applied 
themselves  with  their  utmost  industry  to  search  after 
truth ; the  knowledge  of  which  can  alone  be  properly 
termed  wisdom.  And  these  were  called  philosophers, 
or  lovers  of  wisdom ; of  which  there  were  several  sects, 
according  to  the  several  doctrines  and  opinions  of  the 
authors  or  beginners  of  them.  So  that  whosoever  upon 
the  examination  of  the  several  doctrines  of  these  philo- 
sophers, afterward  made  choice  of  any  one  sect,  pre- 
ferring it  to  all  the  rest,  and  endeavored  to  regulate  his 
life  and  actions  after  its  tenets,  was  called,  according  to 
the  name  of  that  sect,  either  a Stoic,  Peripatetic,  Epi- 
curean, &c.  Now,  after  many  philosophers  had  intro- 
duced several  opinions  to  instruct  men  how  to  arrive 
at  their  supreme  happiness, — for  this  is  the  philosophy 
1 mean,  and  the  only  one  worth  our  care  and  thought, 
— Jesus  Christ  was  born  into  the  world  ; who,  unac- 
quainted with  learning  and  its  professors,  taught  a doc- 
trine much  more  clear,  reasonable,  and  excellent,  than 
any  which  was  ever  known  before ; and,  indeed,  so  far 
surpassing  all  human  power  of  thought,  that  it  were  of 
itself  sufficient  to  give  him  a title  to  divinity,  had  there 
been  no  other  arguments  for  his  being  the  Son  of  God. 
And  the  embracers  of  his  doctrine  were  called  Chris- 
tians. But,  though  the  bare  profession  of  this  admirable 
doctrine,  is  sufficient  to  give  a man  the  name,  yet  some- 
thing else  is  requisite  to  make  him  a real  Christian  ; and 
that  is,  thoroughly  to  contemplate  both  the  life  and  doc- 
trine of  our  Saviour ; to  obtain,  so  far  as  possible,  the 
same  spirit;  to  enter  into  the  same  temper  of  mind  ; to 
be  moved  by  the  same  influences,  governed  by  the  same 
principles  ; and,  in  short,  to  form  the  life,  as  exactly  as 
possible,  after  his  model ; that  is,  to  think  as  he  thought, 
and  act  as  he  acted  : and  this,  according  to  my  notion, 
is  that  alone  which  can  truly  and  deservedly  confer  upon 
a man  the  name  of  Christian  ; though,  perhaps,  it  may 
reduce  the  number  of  Christians  within  a narrow  com- 
pass. For  I fear  there  are  as  many  that  bear  that  title, 
who  are  not  Christians  indeed,  as  there  were  Israelites, 
who  were  not  Israelites  indeed.  He,  therefore,  that 
aspires  to  be  a Christian,  must  never  slacken  his  endea- 
vors, till  he  really  feels  himself  one.  And  this  is  very 


HOW.J  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS*  261 

possible  ; for  the  soul  is  as  capable  of  the  perception  of 
thing's  within  itself,  as  the  body  is  of  heat  or  cold,  hunger 
or  thirst,  ease  or  pain.  And  a man  may  as  reasonably 
conclude,  that  he  is  a good  Christian,  without  feeling 
himself  such,  as  he  may  fancy  that  he  is  cold,  or  hungry, 
or  in  pain,  without  feeling  that  he  is  any  one  of  them. 
It  is  evident  that  a man  may  feel  within  himself  whether 
he  is,  or  is  not,  endued  with  the  qualities  belonging  to  a 
Christian ; and  therefore  ought  not  to  rest  satisfied  of 
his  being  perfectly  such,  till  he  feels  those  qualities 
within  him  : till  he  finds  himself,  in  relation  to  his  God, 
firm  in  faith,  fervent  in  love,  humble,  sincere,  constant 
in  obedience,  and  cheerful  in  resignation.  Whilst  he  is 
laboring  after  these  several  graces,  he  is  endeavoring  to 
be  a Christian ; and  when  he  has  obtained  them,  he  is 
most  certainly  a Christian  indeed, 

CXVII.  Every  sincerely  virtuous  man,  fixed  in  the 
principles  of  virtue,  and  entirely  influenced  by  reason, 
must  needs  be  in  a fair  way  to  be  a good  Christian. 
Nor  do  I doubt,  that,  if  Pythagoras,  Socrates,  Plato, 
with  many  other  virtuous  Heathens,  had  been  happy 
enough  to  have  lived  cotemporary  with  our  Saviour, 
and  to  have  been  acquainted  with  his  life  and  precepts, 
they  would  readily  have  embraced  the  Christian  doc- 
trine and  been  eminent  in  the  first  rank  of  its  professors. 
Was  it  not  the  integrity  and  virtue  of  Joseph  of  Arima- 
thea,  and  of  Nathanael,  that  had  fitted  them  for  Christian- 
ity, and  that  had  disposed  their  mind  for  the  reception 
of  truth  when  and  wheresoever  they  could  find  it  ? And, 
in  my  opinion,  there  had  been  sufficient  reason  for  the 
belief  of  the  Gospel  delivered  by  our  Saviour,  though 
there  had  been  neither  predictions  nor  miracles  to  con- 
firm his  extraordinary  mission  ; and  that  upon  this  con- 
sideration. Every  truly  virtuous  man  feels  in  himself 
an  utter  abhorrence  and  aversion  to  falsehood  and  de- 
ceit, and  is  assured,  that,  so  long  as  he  continues  under 
the  influence  of  virtue,  he  is  capable  of  neither ; for  he 
knows,  that  virtue  is  a power  conferred  by  God  upon 
the  mind  of  man,  to  capaciate  him  to  act  in  conformity 
to  the  divine  will  and  commands  : so  long,  therefore,  as 
he  feels  this  divine  power  in  his  soul,  which  is  what  the 
Scripture  terms  grace,  he  knows  himself  to  be  in  no 
danger  of  being  false  or  deceitful ; since  this  power  and 


262  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [H0\V- 

falsehood  are  inconsistent,  and  cannot  possibly  subsist 
in  the  mind  of  man  at  the  same  time.  A virtuous  man, 
thus  conscious  of  his  own  principles,  is  acquainted  with 
the  effect  that  the  same  principles  must  necessarily  have 
in  the  minds  of  other  men  ; and,  by  consequence,  dis- 
covering in  the  life,  behavior,  and  doctrine  of  our  Sa- 
viour, by  infinite  degrees,  the  most  exalted  purity,  vir- 
tue, and  integrity,  that  ever  any  man  was  possessed  of, 
he  will  be  perfectly  convinced,  that  it  was  impossible 
for  any  thing  but  truth  to  proceed  from  him.  I trust, 
through  God’s  great  goodness,  that  even  I myself  am 
not  capable  of  lying  or  deceiving,  for  any  advantage,  or 
upon  any  account  whatsoever ; and,  from  the  abhor- 
rence and  aversion  I feel  to  those  detestable  vices,  which 
I beg  my  good  God  ever  to  continue  in  me,  I am  as  con- 
fidently assured,  that  it  was  impossible  for  any  thing 
but  truth  to  proceed  from  the  lips  of  the  blessed 
Jesus,  whose  name  I am  not  worthy  to  mention,  as  I 
am  assured,  that  it  is  impossible  for  cold  and  darkness  to 
proceed  from  the  sun.  He,  then,  who  has  so  often 
owned  himself  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  is  certainly  so. 
And  my  merciful  Redeemer,  through  whose  purity  in 
life,  satisfaction  in  death,  and  mediation  in  glory,  I trust 
I shall  receive  the  perfect  remission  of  all  my  sins  and 
corruptions,  and  enjoy  the  eternal  felicity  of  loving, 
praising,  Serving,  and  adoring  him,  is  assuredly  God  ; 
to  whom,  with  the  Father,  and  Holy  Spirit,  I hum- 
bly ascribe  all  power  and  glory,  world  without  end. 

CXVIII.  It  v/ere  worth  a man’s  while  to  consider, 
whether  his  present  temper  of  mind  be  such  as  he  would 
be  willing  to  possess,  as  long  as  he  lives.  And  if,  upon 
reflection,  he  finds  his  soul  overspread  with  malice, 
pride,  envy,  avarice,  injustice,  or  any  other  vice,  let 
him  consider,  whether  that  be  the  state  he  desires  it 
should  be  in,  when  it  leaves  his  body.  If  it  be,  let  him 
acknowledge  himself  an  atheist;  if  it  be  not,  let  him 
own  himself  a fool,  and  endeavor  to  grow  wiser  as  soon 
as  he  can. 

CXIX.  Wheresoever  pride  predominates  in  the  soul 
of  man,  self-love  is  the  most  powerful  and  active  prin- 
ciple in  that  pride.  The  extraordinary  opinion  of 
himself  which  a proud  man  has,  makes  the  extravagant 
value  he  has  for  his  own  imaginary  merit  appear  to  him 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  263 

just,  and  the  great  contempt  he  has  for  all  other  men, 
reasonable.  And,  from  this  vain  and  foolish  conceit, 
he  fancies  that  all  the  bounties  and  blessings  of  Provi- 
dence ought  to  centre  in  him  ; and  looks  upon  the  pros- 
perous events  that  happen  to  others,  as  so  many  unjust 
distributions  of  that  good,  to  which  he  alone  has  a right. 
It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  a man,  possessed  with 
such  wild  notions,  should  always  be  ready  to  bestow 
upon  himself  any  advantage  that  lies  in  his  power,  how 
much  soever  it  may  be  to  the  detriment  of  others,  whom 
he  considers  as  so  many  ciphers  in  the  creation,  and 
himself  as  the  only  significant  figure.  It  is  this  exces- 
sive pride,  this  unreasonable  self-love,  which  excites  in 
the  mind  of  man  all  those  motions  and  agitations,  that 
hurry  him  to  tyranny,  oppression,  fraud,  rapine,  cruelty, 
and  almost  every  other  mischievous  and  detestable  vice  ; 
so  that,  wherever  this  passion  rules,  she  governs  with  an 
impious  sway,  and  is  surrounded  with  a numerous  reti- 
nue, composed  of  every  ill.  From  this  it  is  plain,  that 
a wise  and  virtuous  man  can  never  be  proud  ; nor  can 
he  be  exalted  in  his  thoughts,  at  any  advantages  he  has 
above  others;  because  he  is  conscious  of  his  own  weak- 
ness and  inability  to  become  either  wise  or  virtuous,  by 
any  thing  he  finds  in  his  own  power.  And  his  sense  of 
the  goodness  />f  the  bountiful  God,  in  bestowing  upon 
him  more  abundantly,  w hat  he  has  been  pleased  more 
sparingly  to  vouchsafe  to  others,  wnll  inspire  his  soul 
wdth  humility,  thankfulness,  and  adoration.  Besides, 
he  will  reflect,  how  unworthy  he  wmuld  be  of  so  glorious 
a distinction,  and  of  so  invaluable,  as  well  as  undeserved 
a preference  to  oUier  men,  if  he  could  be  capable  of 
acting  so  as  to  seem  to  attribute  any  part  of  it  to  him- 
self ; and  how  just  it  w^ould  be  in  that  adorable  Being, 
to  deprive  him  of  those  blessings  which  have  downed 
from  the  divine  bounty  alone ; and  to  degrade  him  to 
the  lowest  rank  of  human  nature.  But  no  reasonable 
man  can  think  himself  able  to  acquire  and  preserve  wis- 
dom by  his  own  strength,  when  he  knows,  that  either  a 
blow  or  disease  is  capable  of  making  an  idiot  of  him  : 
and  thus,  finding  himself  too  weak  to  preserve  wisdom, 
his  reason  will  readily  demonstrate  to  him,  that  he 
wants  force  to  acquire  it.  But,  on  the  contrary,  a 
proud,  and,  which  is  all  one,  a foolish  man,  thinks  no- 


264  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

thing  too  jood  for  himself,  and  every  thing  too  good  for 
others  ; he  thinks  he  has  an  indisputable  title  to  all  the 
enjoyments  of  life,  and  that  other  men  are  unworthy  of 
them.  His  pride  and  envy  make  him  unconcerned, 
how  little  other  men  enjoy  of  happiness  ; whilst  his  vi- 
ciously tender  love  for  himself,  gives  him  the  vain  con- 
ceit that  he  alone  ought  of  right  to  engross  it : his  nar- 
row mind,  therefore,  is  confined  to  the  compass  of  his 
own  body  ; whereas  the  virtuous,  which  is  the  only  great 
and  generous  soul,  admits  of  no  limits  to  its  bounty  and 
love,  but  such  as  give  bounds  to  the  creation. 

CXX.  How  wretchedly  disposed  is  the  heart  of  man 
toward  God  ! In  prosperity,  it  is  apt  to  be  full  of  neg- 
lect, in  adversity,  of  repining;  and  as  for  love  and  obe- 
dience, they  may  crowd  in,  when  the  other  two  think  fit 
to  make  room  for  them. 

CXXI.  I find  the  business  upon  which  I have  resolv- 
ed, and  in  which  1 am  employed,  is,  to  oppose  most  of 
my  natural  inclinations  : so  that,  if  Nature  be  in  the 
right,  I am  to  blame  in  contradicting  her ; but,  if  not, 
which  is  the  infallible  truth,  I doubt  the  greatest  part  of 
mankind  are  fatally  in  the  wrong. 

CXXH.  The  capacity  of  thinking,  is  a most  noble 
and  delightful  faculty  ; but  we  have  not  the  absolute 
government  of  it.  It  is  often  busy  and  waking  in  me, 
when  my  frail  body  would  willingly  be  at  rest ; and  it 
is  many  times  heavy  and  drowsy,  when  I am  desirous 
to  keep  it  awake.  We  must,  therefore,  patiently  watch 
and  attend  upon  wisdom ; and  embrace  every  opportu- 
nity of  conversing  with  her,  that  she  will  please  to  favor 
us  with.  For  my  own  part,  I have  often  wished,  that 
four  hours  only  of  the  four  and  twenty  would  sufficient- 
ly satisfy  my  body  with  sleep,  that  I might  have  the 
happiness  of  employing  as  many  of  the  rest  as  possible, 
in  the  agreeable  exercise  of  thought,  the  parent  of 
wisdom. 

CXXHI.  The  scheme  and  manner  of  our  thinking  is 
formed  and  altered,  either  by  the  impressions  of  outward 
objects  upon  the  mind,  by  the  inward  disposition  of  the 
body  affecting  it,  or  by  divine  impulse  : so  that  every 
new  temper  of  mind,  displays  a new  scene  of  thought. 
But,  notwithstanding  that  numberless  variety  of  schemes 
of  thinking,  which  roll  with  an  incessant  vicissitude  in 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  265 

the  mind,  there  is  but  one  that  is  right,  one  that  is  rea- 
sonable ; unity  being  the  inseparable  property  of  truth. 
Now,  the  first  great  difficulty,  is  to  light  on  the  right 
scheme  ; and  the  next,  is  to  fix  upon  it  : for  it  is  this 
alone  which  proceeds  from  the  divine  impulse  ; and  this 
is  continually  combatted  by  those  other  trains  of  thought 
which  arise  from  other  causes  ; which  makes  it  impossi- 
ble for  us  firmly  to  retain,  and  establish  the  truth  in  our 
minds,  without  a force  derived  and  continued  to  them, 
from  the  divine  bounty  and  power.  Which  force,  we 
must  labor  to  procure  ; and  act,  as  if  we  were  able  to 
deserve  it : which  force,  O my  great  and  good  God, 
bestow,  T beseech  thee,  upon  thy  most  unworthy  crea- 
ture, for  his  sake  who  enjoyed  it  most  amply  and  per- 
fectly, leading  a life  in  this  world  spotless  of  sin,  and 
triumphant  over  all  temptations  ! 

CXXIV.  Having  lately  observed  so  many  new  au- 
thors, who  pretend  to  give  an  account  of  the  nature  of 
God,  and  of  the  human  soul,  and  who  are  usually  men 
of  no  very  virtuous  principles,  I would  willingly  consi- 
der, how  such  men  came  to  be  qualified  for  such  a per- 
formance, and  how  the  secret  of  God  comes  to  be 
intrusted  with  them  ; which,  David  observes,  was  always 
used  to  be  committed  to  another  sort  of  men.  Now  it 
plainly  appears  to  me,  that  a vicious  man  can  have  no 
true  notion  of  God;  because  the  knowledge  of  a thing, 
is  necessary  to  the  forming  a notion  of  it.  And  no  man 
can  have  the  knowledge  of  God,  but  he  on  whom  God 
himself  shall  be  pleased  to  bestow  it : for  that  knowledge 
is  the  consequence  of  faith,  and  faith  is  not  naturally 
implanted  in  the  mind  of  man  ; it  being  solely  the  gift 
of  God,  conferred  npen  men  at  such  times  as  he  thinks 
ht.  For,  if  it  were  originall)^  implanted  in  the  mind, 
there  would  be  no  such  thing  as  a vicious  man  or  unbe- 
liever ; nor  yet  could  there  be  any  such  thing  as  a rege- 
nerate man  ; since,  if  faith  were  natural  to  the  soul, 
there  would  be  no  need  of  any  such  work,  as  rooting 
up,  and  new  planting  ; which  is  the  laborious  business 
of  regeneration,  which  is  the  happy  effect  of  a lively 
faith.  How,  then,  should  the  vicious  man  come  by  this 
knowledge,  which  he  neither  has  from  nature,  nor  can 
possibly  have  by  his  own  acquisition  ? Besides,  it  is 
evident  that  the  moment  God  Almighty  gives  the 
23 


266  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

knowledge  of  himself  to  any  one,  it  makes  him  cease  to 
be  vicious  : for  he  who,  by  faith,  has  obtained  the 
knowledge  of  God,  must  immediately  discover  his  glo- 
rious beauties  and  perfections ; and  he  who  has  disco- 
vered those,  will  find  himself  obliged  to  love  God  ; and 
he  who  loves  God,  must  needs  obey  him ; and  he  who 
obeys  God  as  he  ought  to  do,  is  the  direct  contrary  to  a 
vicious  man. 

^ CXXV.  Where  there  is  no  constancy  of  mind,  thei^ 
can  be  no  constancy  of  happiness.  Immutability  is  that 
admirable  attribute,  which  crowns  the  beatitude  of  the 
Almighty.  Inconstancy  and  change  are  the  great  im- 
perfections under  which  human  nature  labors,  the  divine 
nature  being  entirely  exempt  from  them.  ^ 

CXXVI.  If  happiness  be  necessary  to  man,  religion 
is  necessary  in  order  to  attain  happiness.  For  religion 
is,  properly,  nothing  else,  than  a right-guided  pursuit 
after  happiness.  We  must  not  imagine,  when  we  per- 
form any  duty  toward  God,  or  put  up  our  addresses  to 
him,  that  we  literally  do  him  either  honor  or  service  ; 
but  that  we  are  doing  the  most  reasonable  thing  in  the 
world,  and  the  most  beneficial  to  ourselves,  by  which 
we  aspire  after,  and  acquire  effectually,  our  greatest  fe- 
licity, from  the  bountiful  acceptance  of  our  performances 
by  God  ; to  whom  they  are  utterly  unprofitable,  and  to 
whose  complete  and  perfect  sufficiency  and  bliss,  all  the 
united  beings  of  the  creation  would  not  be  able  to  make 
the  most  inconsiderable  addition.  We  must,  therefore, 
by  no  means  entertain  such  absurd  notions,  as  to  fancy, 
that,  in  our  religious  duties,  we  are  doing  service  to 
God,  when  we  are  actually  doing  the  greatest  imagina- 
ble honor  and  service  to  ourselves  ; whilst  He  is  pleased 
to  permit  us  to  enter  into  any  communication  with  him, 
upon  which  he  shall  vouchsafe,  through  his  own  pure 
bounty,  to  confer  his  favor.  And,  indeed,  our  perform- 
ing any  duty  to  God,  as  we  ought,  as  well  as  the  means 
of  procuring  and  increasing  it,  is  the  consequence  of  his 
favor ; since  it  is  by  his  favor  only,  that  we  are  induced 
and  enabled  to  make  any  right  applications  to  him. 

CXXVII.  There  are  two  extraordinary  virtues  to  be 
learned  from  human  imperfection.  The  imperfections 
of  others,  may  teach  us  patience  ; the  imperfections  of 
ourselves,  may  teach  us  humility. 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  267 

CXXVIII.  We  are  not  to  imagine,  that  we  do  honor 
to  Jesus  Christ  by  believing  in  him ; for  our  faith  is  a 
tribute  due  to  his  excellence  : and  we  do  ourselves  honor 
in  manifesting,  by  our  faith  in  him,  that  discerning  wis- 
dom, by  which  we  are  led  to  discover  the  infinitely 
superior  excellence  which  was  in  him,  above  all  the 
men  that  have  ever  lived  in  the  world  ; which  superiority 
is  evident  in  various  instances,  and  particularly,  in  his 
wonderful  and  intimate  knowledge,  both  of  the  divine 
and  human  nature.  Our  own  experience,  compared 
attentively  with  his  discourses  and  reasonings  upon 
that  subject,  will  sufficiently  demonstrate  to  us,  that  no 
man  ever  had  so  clear  an  inspection  into  all  the  powers 
and  weaknesses,  motions  and  mutations,  vices  and  vir- 
tues, of  the  mind  of  man,  as  he  had  ; nor  did  ever  any 
man  understand  the  perfections  and  imperfections,  the 
miseries  and  happiness,  incident  and  belonging  to  human 
nature,  in  any  degree  equally  with  him  ; neither  was  any 
man  ever  able  to  prescribe  such  just  rules  and  methods 
of  attaining  happiness,  and  avoiding  misery,  as  he,  to  the 
infinite  benefit  and  advantage  of  mankind,  has  been 
pleased  to  do.  And,  since  we  have  so  sensible  a demon- 
stration, by  our  own  inward  feeling  of  what  passes  in 
ourselves,  and  by  our  continual  discoveries  and  obser- 
vations of  what  passes  in  others,  that  Jesus  Christ  has 
made  so  lively,  just,  and  true  a description  of  human 
nature,  no  reasonable  man  ought  to  doubt  either  his 
knowledge  or  sincerity,  in  what  he  has  discovered  to 
us  of  the  divine  : for  his  truth  in  describing  human 
nature,  is  a justification  of  his  truth  in  describing  the 
divine  ; and  his  knowledge  of  the  one,  a justification  of 
his  knowledge  of  the  other. 

CXXIX.  The  chief  reason  why  few  arrive  at  the 
felicity  of  a clear  and  strong  faith,  seems  to  me  to  be 
this  ; the  soul  is  not  able  so  to  disengage  itself  from  the 
objects  to  which  its  affections  have  united  it,  as  to  give 
itself  up  freely  to  the  disquisition  of  abstracted  and  im- 
portant truths  : such  is  the  slavery  to  which  our  vices 
and  corruptions  have  betrayed  us  ; and  such  is  the  glo- 
rious liberty,  which  we  can  never  obtain,  but  by  the 
bountiful  assistance  of  divine  power  ; which,  by  enlight- 
ening the  reason,  and  displaying  before  it  far  more 
excellent  and  noble  objects,  can  alone  enable  it  to  make 


268 


DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS. 


[HOWj 

a truer  and  better  choice.  But,  whosoever  is  happy 
enough  to  enjoy  such  an  illumination,  must  not  imagine 
that  his  reason  is  more  easy  to  be  kept  bright  than  a 
piece  of  brass  or  iron;  for  if  he  neglect  frequently  to 
rub  and  polish  it,  he  will  soon  be  convinced,  that  it  will 
lose  its  lustre.  And  nothing  but  our  ignorance  of  the 
difference  between  a clear  and  sullied  reason,  can  ever 
make  us  with  patience  endure  the  latter. 

CXXX.  Jesus,  my  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me.  I 
believe  thee,  I know  thee  to  be  the  Son  of  the  everliv- 
ing  God  ; not  more  from  the  miracles  which  thou  hast 
wrought,  than  from  the  words  which  thou  hast  spoken. 
Thy  words  are  no  less  a demonstration  of  infinite 
wisdom,  than  thy  works  of  infinite  power  ; and  I most 
humbly  implore  thy  favor  and  mercy,  both  as  my  Sa- 
viour and  my  God. 

CXXXI.  Thou  great  and  adorable  God,  the  com- 
plete knowledge  of  whom  is  perfect  felicity  ; and  even 
the  imperfect  knowledge  of  whom  the  most  desirable 
blessing ; enlarge  and  purify  my  soul  for  the  contem- 
plation of  thee,  that,  when  I consider  thy  incompre- 
hensible glories,  I may  adore  thee,  in  a measure  pro- 
portionable to  my  conceptions  of  thee.  Make  my  know- 
ledge and  adoration  of  thee  to  increase,  every  moment 
of  my  life  ; and,  if  it  please  thee,  raise  them  still  higher 
in  the  last  moments  of  it;  that,  by  a lively  faith,  humble 
obedience,  fixed  hopes,  and  ardent  love,  I may  ascend 
to  the  eternal  fruition  of  thee,  in  thy  everlasting  kingdom 
of  glory,  through  Jesus  Christ,  my  Saviour.  Amen. 

CXXXII.  I think  the  mystery  of  the  Trinity  may 
be  very  w^ell  accounted  for  by  human  reason  ; so  far  as 
to  vindicate  it  from  being  a contradiction.  But,  to 
imagine  that  human  reason  is  capable  of  arriving  at  a 
clear  and  just  notion  of  it,  is  to  imagine  that  human 
reason  is  not  human  reason;  that  it  is  neither  finite 
nor  limited,  but  capable  of  extending  itself,  even  to  the 
infinite  extent  of  all  truth.  There  is  nothing  more 
vain,  than  to  fancy  that  human  reason  is  the  measure 
of  all  truth,  and  that  nothing  can  be  true  but  wdiat  is 
measured  by  it.  We  may  as  justly  think,  that  a man’s 
'^span  is  the  measure  of  infinite  space,  or  the  hollow  of 
his  hand  the  measure  of  all  matter,  as  that  his  under- 
standing is  the  measure  of  all  truth.  It  is  objected, 


HOW.J  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  269 

that  one  cannot  be  three,  nor  three  one : if  this  be 
affirmed  of  numbers,  I grant  it  is  true  ; but  if  it  be  af- 
firmed, that  by  granting  it  to  be  true  as  to  numbers,  it 
must  necessarily  be  true  as  to  the  Trinity,  I absolutely 
deny  that  affirmation ; for  the  case  is  not  the  same  be- 
tween them.  And  this  objection  is  only  a fallacy, 
which  supposes  two  cases  alike,  which  are  not  alike; 
and  therefore  its  conclusion  is  false.  It  is  evident,  that 
the  number  three  contains  three  units,  and  that  three 
units  is  more  than  one  unit;  it  is  also  evident,  that  one 
unit  is  not  so  much  as  three  units,  and  therefore  that 
one  unit  cannot  be  three  units.  Now,  to  make  the  case 
the  same  in  the  Trinity,  and  this  a just  confutation  of  it, 
somebody  must  affirm,  but  who  that  somebody  is  I do 
not  know,  that  one  essentially  distinct  God,  may  be 
three  essentially  distinct  Gods  ; and  that  three  essen- 
tially distinct  Gods,  may  be  but  one  essentially  distinct 
God.  But  nobody  that  believes  the  Trinity  rightly, 
believes  it  in  this  manner ; and,  therefore,  this  is  a 
fallacious  comparison,  and  a wrong  argument.  The 
true  notion  of  the  Trinity,  as  1 conceive,  is,  that  God 
the  Father  has  existed  from  all  eternity;  that  God  the 
Son  has  been  begotten  by  Him  from  all  eternity,  and 
has  eternally  existed  with  him;  that  God  the  Holy 
Ghost  has,  by  an  eternal  procession,  proceeded  from 
the  Father  and  the  Son,  and  eternally  existed  with 
them.  But  nobody  imagines,  that  either  the  Son,  or  the 
Holy  Ghost,  were  ever  separated  and  divided  from  the 
Father  ; since  such  a separation  would  make  three  es- 
sentially distinct  Gods.  On  the  contrary,  the  Christian 
belief  is,  that  both  the  Son  and  Holy  Ghost  are  insepa- 
rably united  to  the  Father  ; that  they  remain  one  same 
and  indivisible  substance  with  Him,  so  as  with  Him  to 
make  but  one  God.  Now  this  is  as  far  from  a contra- 
diction as  to  say,  that  a thousand  houses  are  but  one 
city,  and' one  city  is  a thousand  houses;  that  millions 
of  drops  are  one  stream,  and  that  one  stream  is  a mik 
lion  of  drops.  All  the  difference  is,  that  we  know,  by 
our  own  perception,  how  thousands  of  houses  make  one 
city,  and  how  millions  of  drops  make  one  stream ; and 
so  on  the  contrary.  But  we  do  not  know,  because  it  is 
out  of  the  reach  of  our  senses,  and  beyond  the  bounds 
of  our  understanding,  how  the  three  persons  of  the 
23^ 


270  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [lIOW. 

Trinity,  as  we  call  them,  are  one  God  ; or  how  the 
undivided  Godhead  contains  the  three  persons  in  the  Tri- 
nity. But,  to  give  a yet  clearer  and  juster  instance  of 
the  matter ; when  we  see  a plant  or  tree,  with  different 
shoots  growing  out  of  the  same  root,  we  think  we 
speak  properly,  and  so  we  do,  when  we  say  it  is  one 
plant  or  tree : and  we  speak  as  properly,  when,  de- 
signing to  distinguish  the  differences  of  that  plant  or 
tree,  we  say,  that  the  root  and  two  shoots  growing  out 
of  it  are  three ; for  there  is  both  such  a diversity  and 
distinction,  as  must  be  numbered  by  three ; and  yet,  in 
another  respect  there  is  such  a unity,  as  can  be  called 
but  one.  There  is  such  a union  and  connexion  be- 
tween the  root  and  those  shoots  which  grow  out  of  it, 
that  when  we  conceive  of  them  altogether,  we  can  have 
no  notion  but  of  one  undivided  plant  or  tree  ; but, 
when  we  conceive  of  the  root  and  its  several  shoots,  as 
distinguished  from  one  another,  we  lay  aside  the  notion 
of  unity,  and  consider  them  as  three  distinct  things  ; and 
yet,  this  is  so  far  from  any  contradiction,  that  our  no- 
tions in  both  respects  are  very  right,  and  agreeable  to 
the  real  truth  of  things.  Thus,  it  is  evident  v/e  have 
notions  of  Trinity  in  unity  without  absurdity,  how 
wittily  soever  some  men  may  make  an  unwary  and  dan- 
gerous jest  of  it.  This,  in  relation  to  the  Deity,  whose 
essence  and  perfection  are  incomprehensible,  must  be 
acknowledged  to  be  a great  mystery;  a truth  revealed 
to  us,  but  not  explained  to  our  understandings : we 
have  reason  to  believe  it  true,  though  we  cannot  com- 
prehend, by  our  reason,  after  what  manner  it  is  true. 
We  are  assured,  and  we  have  the  fullest  reason  to  be- 
lieve, that  all  those  beings  which  shall  for  ever  con- 
tinue in  the  favor  and  presence  of  God,  must  necessa- 
rily enjoy  a perfect  felicity;  but,  to  comprehend  the 
full  nature,  extent,  and  manner  of  that  felicity,  is  above 
the  reach  and  capacity  of  our  understandings ; and 
must  be  so,  till,  by  being  made  capable  of  enjoying  it, 
we  become  capable  of  understanding  it.  In  short,  as  it 
is  not  reasonable  to  believe  very  strange  things,  with- 
out good  grounds  for  our  belief;  so  it  is  unreasonable 
positively  to  conclude  every  thing  to  be  false,  the  truth 
of  which  does  not  lie  evidently  open  and  level  to  our 
understandings.  A wise  man  knows  certainly  many 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  271 

truths,  which  an  ignorant  man  cannot  comprehend  ; but 
the  wisest  of  men  know,  by  many  degrees,  fewer  truths 
than  they  are  ignorant  of. 

MODERATION  IS  VIRTUE.* 

The  word  moderation  has  of  late  been  so  much  in 
every  body’s  mouth,  that  it  gave  me  the  curiosity  to 
examine  the  nature  of  the  thing  represented  by  that 
word.  There  is,  doubtless,  one  true  original  idea  be- 
longing to  every  singly  significant  word  ; though  cus- 
tom may  have  applied  several  other  significations  to  it, 
different  from  its  first  and  proper  meaning.  And  it  is 
in  the  labyrinth  of  this  various  acceptation  of  words, 
or  rather  misunderstanding  of  ideas,  that  contending 
parties  are  apt  to  lose  themselves  in  endless  disputes. 
My  design,  therefore,  is  to  consider,  in  as  few  words  as 
possible,  the  nature  of  moderation,  abstracted  from 
party  and  passion  ; what  it  really  is,  and  wherein  it 
consists.  It  is  granted,  on  all  hands,  that  moderation 
is  a virtue : but  I think  that  is  to  say  too  little  of  it ; 
since  it  is  the  indivisible  point  in  which  all  virtue  cen- 
tres. For  all  excess  is  vicious ; and  that  spot  only, 
which  is  free  and  unpossessed  by  excess,  is  the  point  of 
moderation,  and  the  very  centre  of  virtue  and  truth ; 
surrounded  with  extremes,  without  partaking  of  them. 
The  virtue  of  prudence,  is  moderation  in  judgment; 
the  virtue  of  temperance,  is  moderation  in  appetite  ; 
the  virtue  of  justice,  is  moderation  in  mutual  dealings 
and  intercourse  amongst  men ; and  the  virtue  of  for- 
titude, is  moderation,  setting  just  bounds  and  limits  to 
fear  and  desire,  and  equally  balancing  the  mind  between 
timidity  and  rashness.  I might  as  easily  trace  modera- 
tion, in  all  the  inferior  subordinate  virtues,  as  I have 
done  in  these  principal  and  original  ones;  but  this 
suffices  to  show,  that  moderation  is  the  point  in  which 
all  virtue  resides,  and  that  there  can  be  no  separation 
between  them.  So  that,  when  it  is  required  that  our 
moderation  should  be  known  to  all  men,  nothing  less  is 
meant,  than  that  v/e  should  give  to  the  world  undenia- 
ble evid-ences  of  our  virtue,  truth,  and  sincerity;  which 
are  all  comprehended  in  that  one  word  moderation. 


* This  dissertation  v/as  written  in  December  1711. 


272  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

But,  if  any  body  imagines  that  in  a contest  concerning 
an  important  truth,  to  yield  up  the  point  and  depart 
from  that  truth  is  moderation,  he  is  infinitely  mistaken  ; 
for  it  is  so  very  far  from  it,  that  it  is  a vicious,  and,  by 
consequence,  immoderate  compliance.  To  comply  in 
indifferent  matters,  is  charity  and  civility  ; but  to  com- 
ply where  justice  and  truth  are  concerned,  is  a manifest 
renunciation  both  of  the  one  and  the  other ; and  men 
must  have  a care  that  they  do  not  permit  their  virtue  to 
be  overpowered,  either  by  their  good-nature  or  good- 
breeding. Where  there  is  a contest  between  two  per- 
sons, the  one  is  apt  to  desire  the  other  to  be  more 
moderate  ; that  is,  to  yield  up  the  point  in  dispute  : and 
the  other,  if  he  has  more  right  on  his  side,  may  more 
reasonably  and  justly  make  that  demand  to  him  ; since 
it  is  most  certain,  that  the  adherence  to  justice  and 
truth,  is  moderation  ; and  he  who  so  adheres,  is  a mo- 
derate or  virtuous  man  : and,  on  the  contrary,  he  who 
either  opposes  justice  and  truth,  or  departs  from  them, 
is  an  immoderate  or  vicious  one.  Should  a Jew  press 
a Christian  to  renounce  his  religion,  and,  finding  him 
firm  to  his  principles,  desire  him  to  be  more  moderate, 
no  man  can  imagine  that  it  would  be  a virtuous  mode- 
ration in  the  Christian  to  renounce  Christianity,  and 
turn  Jew.  But,  here  lies  the  fallacy  and  mistake  : both 
vice  and  virtue  are,  for  want  of  a true  distinction, 
indifferently  attributed  to  moderation  ; which  is  vul- 
garly and  falsely  taken  for  yielding  and  complying,  no 
matter  whether  reasonably  or  unreasonbly  : and  he 
who  cannot  oblige  another  to  comply  with  his  interest 
or  passion,  will  always  be  apt  to  accuse  him  of  want 
of  moderation.  But  I do  not  wonder  that  moderation 
is  more  talked  of  than  understood ; since  most  men’s 
virtue  lies  more  in  their  tongues,  than  in  their  affections 
and  understandings;  and  he  who  does  not  feel  the 
influence  of  virtue  and  moderation  in  himself,  must 
needs  talk  as  ignorantly  and  imperfectly  of  it,  as  a blind 
man  does  of  colors.  But,  were  there  more  moderation 
in  men’s  minds,  there  would  be  more  in  their  manners  ; 
more  justice  and  integrity,  more  charity  and  generosity. 
And,  when  the  world  is  more  possessed  with  that  vir- 
tue of  moderation,  it  will  be  better  known,  better 
practised,  and  less  talked  of:  it  will  then  be  attended 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS* 

with  those  natural  effects  of  unity,  peacCj  and  kindness^ 
which  it  would  never  fail  to  produce,  were  it  more  real 
and  universal.  In  the  mean  time,  I take  the  liberty  to 
advise  all  contending  parties  to  examine  very  impar- 
tially, whether,  at  the  same  time  that  they  upbraid 
their  adversaries  for  having  the  mote  of  immoderation 
in  their  minds,  they  have  not  a beam  of  it  lying  across 
their  own ; and,  if  they  have,  to  remove  it  as  soon  as 
they  can ; for,  having  experimentally  learned  to  work 
that  cure  in  themselves,  they  may  more  justly  reprove, 
and  more  skilfully  and  successfully  advise  and  assist, 
their  neighbors.  As  for  my  own  particular,  I profess 
to  be  of  no  other  party  than  that  of  moderation  ; which 
is  the  party  of  right  reason  and  truth : yet,  at  the  same 
time,  I clearly  foresee  that  it  will  be  my  fate,  though  I 
shall  never  think  it  my  misfortune,  to  be  always  on  the 
weakest  side  ; since  power  and  superiority  never  fail 
to  get  the  better  of  moderation ; which  is  ever  succes- 
sively abandoned  by  all  prevailing  parties,  and  left  as 
a poor  neglected  portion,  for  those  few  who  value  it 
enough  to  content  themselves  with  it  even  nakedly,  or 
divested  of  power  and  advantage. 

REPUTATION  NO  TRUE  RULE  OF  ACTION. 

One  reason  why  men  usually  have  such  wrong  notions 
of  things,  is,  because  they  receive  general  rules,  which 
yet  have  many  exceptions  to  them,  without  having  any 
regard  to  those  exceptions  ; or  rather,  it  is  because  they 
receive  those  rules  for  general  ones,  which  are  not 
general.  For  want  of  knowledge  and  judgment,  they 
do  not  make  right  distinctions  between  that  part  of  a 
rule  which  must  always  be  the  same,  and  other  parts 
which  are  liable  to  variation  and  change.  It  is  a great 
mistake  amongst  many  people,  that  reputation  is  to  be 
the  rule  of  action  ; which  is  as  much  as  to  affirm,  that 
an  uncertain  and  variable  thing  is  to  be  a certain  and 
fixed  direction  ; that  a heap  of  sand,  which  will  be  scat- 
tered by  the  first  wind,  is  a sufficient  land-mark  for 
travellers  for  ever  to  know  their  way  by ; that  a thing 
which  is  capable  of  as  many  forms  and  sudden  changes 
as  the  clouds  in  the  air,  is  a constant  and  settled  rule  of 
behavior  and  action.  In  short,  if  we  have  no  other  rule 


2Y4  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

of  action  but  reputation,  I must  affirm,  that  we  have  no 
rule  at  all.  But  I think  we  have  another,  which  we 
may  securely  follow  and  depend  upon ; such  a one,  as 
will  keep  us  always  in  the  right  way,  if  we  can  but  be 
happy  enough  to  keep  our  eyes  ever  fixed  upon  it : which 
rule  is,  the  united  principles  of  right  reason  and  religion, 
or  rather  of  true  Christianity,  which  is  right  reason. 
Here,  we  have  a substantial  rule  ; there,  we  have  only 
the  wavering  shadow  of  one  : here,  we  have  something 
that  will  last  as  long  as  right  reason  lasts  ; there,  we 
have  something  that  will  change  as  often,  as  the  stream 
of  men’s  fancies  and  opinions  changes,  which  is  as  often 
as  the  weathercock  : and  those  who  resolve  to  be  direct- 
ed by  it,  must  be  as  inconstant  as  the  wind.  Were  a 
man  always  to  be  governed  by  reputation,  he  must 
change  the  fashion  of  his  virtues,  as  often  as  the  fashion 
of  his  clothes ; otherwise  he  will  run  the  hazard  to  be 
laughed  at  for  an  old-fashioned  virtue,  as  well  as  for  an 
old-fashioned  coat.  A foundation  that  is  unfixed  is  a foun- 
dation upon  sand,  fit  only  for  fools  to  build  on.  Wise 
men,  therefore,  will  find  another,  and  choose  a founda- 
tion, that  has  itself  a foundation  to  rest  upon ; and  then 
they  know  they  may  build  securely.  The  true  founda- 
tion of  action,  is  the  truth  and  rectitude  of  action  ; and 
the  foundation  of  that  truth  and  rectitude,  is  the  eternal 
perfection  and  will  of  the  divine  nature.  We  are  to  do 
things  because  they  are  right,  not  because  they  are 
commendable ; always  considering,  that  they  are  not 
right  because  they  are  commendable,  but  commendable 
because  they  are  right.  Wisdom,  not  vanity,  ought  to 
move  us  to  virtue.  We  are  to  act  for  the  sake  of  truth, 
in  order  to  please  God  ; not  for  the  sake  of  praise,  in 
order  to  please  fools.  Neither  are  we  to  satisfy  our- 
selves, with  the  trifling  bauble  of  vain  reputation,  but 
with  the  substantial  benefit  of  having  done  our  duty,  and 
of  having  pleased  that  adorable  Being,  whom  w^e  are 
obliged  to  make  it  the  whole  business  of  our  lives  to 
please.  But  to  come  to  a clearer  state  of  this  matter, 
without  which  there  can  be  no  avoiding  of  confusion,  it 
is  necessary  to  distinguish  between  the  different  notions 
of  virtue,  and  the  different  motives  to  it ; by  which  we 
may  judge  of  the  difference  there  is  in  men’s  notions 
of  reputation.  I wflll  confine  myself  to  two,  viz.,  the 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  275 

Heathen  notion  of  virtue,  and  the  Christian  notion  of  it ; 
for  we  must  not  confound  the  one  with  the  other  : but, 
when  we  speak  of  virtue,  we  must  know  what  virtue  we 
mean;  or  else,  when  men  speak  of  reputation,  we  shall 
never  know  what  reputation  they  mean.  The  notion  of 
most  of  the  celebrated  Heathens  was,  that  glory  was  the 
only  object  fit  for  the  pursuit  of  great  and  generous 
souls  ; and  that  such  designs  only  were  to  be  formed 
and  prosecuted  by  them,  as  would  procure  them  the 
most  lasting,  and,  as  they  vainly  enough  imagined,  im- 
mortal glory  ; that  is,  the  praise  and  applause  of  their 
actions  while  they  lived,  and  the  perpetuation  of  their 
fame  in  after-ages ; so  that  future  generations  might 
bestow  that  commendation  upon  their  names  and  me- 
mories, which  the  present  did  upon  their  living  persons. 
This  present  and  Aiture  glory  was  the  idol  of  the  more 
generous  Heathens  ; it  was  the  ultimate  good  which  they 
proposed  to  themselves  in  this  life,  and  the  only  felicity 
for  which  they  hoped  after  death  : so  that,  the  only 
motive  of  all  their  actions,  the  only  incitement  to  their 
ambition,  was  glory  and  praise  ; a thin  diet  for  a rational 
mind  to  feed  upon ; all  the  pleasure  and  immortality  of 
which,  was  to  be  enjoyed  in  the  short  space  of  this  pre- 
sent life  only,  by  the  help  of  a vain  fancy,  and  over- 
heated imagination.  The  other  notion  of  Christian 
virtue,  is  this,  that  the  principal  thing  toward  which  a 
wise  man  ought  to  bend  his  thoughts,  designs,  and  ac- 
tions, is  the  approbation  and  favor  of  God  ; the  eternal 
enjoyment  of  whom,  is  the  true  immortal  glory  after 
which  he  ought  ambitiously  to  aspire.  This  is  no  vain 
imaginary  pleasure,  but  a real  felicity  ; to  be  felt,  tasted, 
and  enjoyed  for  ever.  It  will  not  fail  and  vanish,  when 
the  heat  of  imagination  is  extinguished,  like  the  plea- 
sure of  commendation  and  praise ; but  it  will  be  so  inse- 
parably united  to  our  very  souls  and  beings,  that  the  one 
must  last  as  long  as  the  other.  This  is  the  true  virtue, 
the  true  principle  of  action,  as  well  as  the  true  rule  by 
which  it  is  to  be  regulated.  When  our  actions  are 
formed  and  finished  by  this  rule,  they  will  deserve  praise 
and  commendation  ; and  we  may  with  assurance  give  it 
to  ourselves,  though  all  the  world  refuse  it  to  us.  He 
who  has  the  approbation  of  a well-instructed,  well- 
regulated  conscience,  needs  no  other ; if  that  acquits  him. 


276  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

it  is  a divine  acquittal,  nor  needs  he  care  who  condemns 
him.  Those  who  walk  altogether  by  reputation,  travel 
in  a labyrinth,  amongst  such  a multiplicity  of  ways,  that 
they  never  find  the  right  one,  but  weary  themselves  in 
fruitless  and  endless  labor.  Among  good  fellows,  it  is 
a reputation  to  drink ; among  the  debauched,  to  be  in- 
temperate ; among  the  atheists,  to  blaspheme;  among 
the  pickpockets,  to  cheat  and  steal ; among  politicians, 
to  deceive  and  circumvent ; and  among  heroes,  to  plun- 
der and  oppress.  In  short,  every  one  commends  what 
he  likes  best  himself;  and  where  there  is  such  variety  of 
different  directors,  a man  who  has  no  other  knowledge 
of  his  road,  Avill  be  very  apt  to  miss  it.  Among  the  cla- 
mors of  so  many  false  reputations,  the  low  voice  of  a 
true  reputation  is  hardly  to  be  heard ; and,  if  heard,  it 
will  hardly  be  credited  against  so  strong  an  opposition. 
There  are  so  few  who  value  either  men  or  actions  because 
they  are  good,  that  he  who  considers  reputation,  will  be 
apt  to  choose  one  that  makes  a loud  noise.  Men  gene- 
rally love  to  have  their  praises  proclaimed,  not  whisper- 
ed. There  are  not  many  who  can  have  the  patience  to 
stay  till  the  day  of  judgment,  to  receive  the  approbation 
and  applause  of  their  actions.  If  a man  is  scorched  with 
the  thirst  of  praise,  he  will  strive  to  quench  it  though  it 
be  in  the  first  puddle  ; he  will  not  take  the  pains  to 
search  far  for  a clear  fountain,  if  muddy  water  be  near 
at  hand.  But  it  may  be  objected,  that  certainly  reputa- 
tion is  a valuable  thing,  since  it  has  been  accounted  so 
by  the  wisest  of  men  : neither  will  I deny  that  a just  and 
true  reputation  is  a most  desirable  thing ; but  I deny 
that  it  is  desirable  only  as  it  is  praise  and  commendation  ; 
since  ill  actions,  among  many  people,  may  procure 
those,  as  well  as  good  ones ; but  it  is  desirable,  as  it  is 
the  effect  of  a desirable  cause  ; it  is  desirable,  because 
true  merit,  which  only  can  give  a true  reputation,  con- 
fers it ; and  true  merit  is  what  every  body  ought  to 
aspire  after,  and  to  be  thankful  to  God  for  giving  it  to 
them,  when  they  have  it.  iffen  ought  to  be  truly  virtu- 
ous, because  true  virtue  is  in  itself  a desirable  thing, 
loved  by  that  adorable  wisdom  which  is  the  fountain  of 
all  wisdom  as  well  as  of  all  virtue  ; and  whether  it  is  its 
fortune  to  be  commended  or  neglected,  esteemed  or 
despised,  it  will  not,  or  at  least  it  ought  not,  to  appear 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  277 

less  amiable  to  those  who  admire,  covet,  and  possess  it, 
because  they  are  assured  it  will  make  them  approved 
and  accepted,  where  approbation  and  acceptance  is  a 
more  valuable,  lasting,  and  substantial  blessing,  than 
even  that  immortal  fame  and  glory,  which  is  so  gene- 
rally and  foolishly  preferred  before  it. 

“ How  can  ye  believe,  which  receive  honor  one  of 
another ; and  seek  not  the  honor  that  cometh  of  God 
only 

A strong  vanity,  makes  a weak  faith  ; 

And  a strong  faith,  a weak  vanity. 

A RATIONAL  ESSAY  UPON  THE  TRINITY. 

In  relation  to  the  Trinity,  I would  have  it  considered, 
whether  unity  of  nature  or  essence,  and  plurality  of 
persons,  is  not  necessary  to  absolute  felicity  and  per- 
fection ; at  least,  whether,  according  to  the  best  conjec- 
tures of  human  reason  about  a matter  so  far  beyond  its 
reach,  it  does  not  seem  highly  probable  that  it  is  so. 
Infinite  perfection  undoubtedly  belongs  to  the  Deity ; 
but  whether  that  is  consistent  with  unity  of  person,  and 
a solitary  existence,  is  what  I would  now  consider  only 
in  a rational  manner,  without  any  regard  to  revelation. 
We  can  attain  to  the  knowledge  of  most  of  the  attributes 
of  God,  even  to  what  is  equal  to  a demonstration,  by 
just  deductions  and  inferences  from  what  we  find  to  be 
in  ourselves.  We  are  sensible  of  some  small  degree 
of  power  and  wisdom  in  ourselves  ; from  whence  we 
must  certainly  conclude,  that  what  we  find  imperfectly 
in  such  creatures  as  we  are,  must  be  most  perfectly  in 
the  Deity ; and  that,  by  consequence,  almighty  poVer 
and  infinite  wisdom  are  attributes  belonging  to  him. 
Since  we  can,  by  this  manner  of  reasoning,  enter  so  far 
into  the  knowledge  of  the  divine  nature,  as  to  find  out 
many  of  its  perfections,  why  may  we  not,  by  the  same 
method,  discover  something  of  the  nature  of  its  felicity  ? 
We  agree  that  the  felicity  of  friendship  is  one  of  the 
greatest  belonging  to  human  nature  ; that  an  intimate 
afiection  between  two  friends,  with  a conformity  of  tem- 
per, thoughts,  and  inclinations,  is  a great  happiness  of 
human  life  ; and  yet,  we  perceive  there  is  an  exceeding 
imperfection  in  this  happiness,  from  the  separation  and 
division  of  the  persons  ; which  necessarily  obstructs  that 
24 


278  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

entire  union,  and  perfect  communication  of  thought  and 
affection,  which  are  requisite  to  a complete  felicity. 
From  hence  we  may  reasonably  infer,  that  the  felicity 
of  the  Deity  is  rendered  infinitely  perfect  by  a plurality 
of  persons,  between  whom  there  is  an  exact  harmony  of 
thought,  of  will,  and  of  affections  ; who  are  inseparable 
and  indivisible,  from  a complete  union  of  nature  and 
essence,  in  one  eternal,  infinite,  and  glorious  Being.  As 
to  the  number  of  persons  necessary  to  supreme  felicity, 
there  is  no  foundation  for  human  reason  to  determine 
any  thing  concerning  it;  and  therefore  we  can  come  by 
revelation  only,  to  the  knowledge  of  the  number.  This 
alone  can  confirm  to  us  the  former  conjectures  of  our 
reason  ; by  discovering,  that  a Trinity  of  persons  united 
in  essence,  is  what  composes  the  felicity  and  perfection 
of  the  Deity.  We  may,  by  our  reason,  further  conceive 
concerning  the  eternal  generation  of  the  Son,  and  the 
eternal  procession  of  the  Holy  Ghost ; that  since  a 
Trinity  of  persons  is  the  perfection  of  the  Deity,  the 
Father  necessarily  exists,  not  only  eternally,  but  per- 
petually imparting  his  divine  nature  to  the  Son ; and 
that  both  the  Father  and  the  Son  eternally  and  perpetu- 
ally exist,  imparting  the  divine  nature  to  the  Holy 
Ghost.  So  that  the  Son  receives  his  divine  nature  by  a 
spiritual  generation,  or  communication  from  the  Father, 
as  the  Holy  Ghost  receives  his  divine  nature  by  a spi- 
ritual procession,  or  communication  of  it  from  the  Fa- 
ther and  the  Son.  Had  the  existence  of  the  Son  been 
only  from  an  act  of  the  will  of  the  Father,  and  the  ex- 
istence of  the  Holy  Ghost  only  from  an  act  of  the  will 
of  the  Father  and  the  Son,  we  might  have  supposed  a 
time  before  those  acts  of  the  will  took  place  ; and,  by 
consequence,  that  the  generation  of  the  Son,  and  pro- 
cession of  the  Holy  Ghost,  was  in  time : but,  when  we 
take  it  for  granted,  that  the  perfection  of  the  Deity  con- 
sists in  the  union  of  three  persons  in  one  nature  or 
essence,  we  must  conclude  that  union  to  be  necessary, 
perpetual,  and  eternal,  as  also  the  generation  and  pro- 
cession to  have  been  necessary,  perpetual,  and  eternal. 
From  hence  it  appears,  wherein  consists  the  superiority 
of  the  Father,  which  is  in  being  the  fountain  and 
source  of  the  Deity,  and  in  communicating  the  divine 
nature  to  the  Son,  and  jointly  with  him  to  the  Holy 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  279 

Ghost  ; as  the  subordination  of  the  Son  consists  in  his 
receiving  the  divine  nature  from  the  Father,  and  the 
subordination  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  his  receiving  the 
divine  nature  from  the  Father  and  the  Son  : and  hereby 
it  is  evident,  that  the  co-equality  of  the  Son  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  to  the  Father,  consists  in  the  full  and 
complete  participation  and  reception  of  the  divine  na- 
ture from  him.  Upon  this  foundation,  we  may  securely 
worship*and  adore  the  ever-blessed  Trinity  in  unity,  one 
in  perfect  consent  and  harmony,  one  in  perfect  compla- 
cency and  love,  as  well  as  in  nature  and  essence,  with- 
out danger  of  tritheism  and  idolatry. 

I do  not  pretend  to  establish  this  way  of  reasoning,  as 
a foundation  of  faith,  nor  do  I fix  my  faith  upon  the 
conclusions  I have  drawn  from  reason,  which  can 
amount  to  no  more  than  a rational  probability.  I abso- 
lutely believe  those  conclusions  no  further,  than  they 
are  supported  and  confirmed  by  Scripture,  as  under- 
stood by  the  catholic  Church.  I only  tried,  for  my 
own  satisfaction,  how  nearly  I could  reconcile  revela- 
tion and  reason.  The  proposition  from  which  all  my 
other  inferences  and  conclusions  seem  to  me  clearly  and 
naturally  to  flow,  is  what  I should  no  otherwise  regard 
than  as  a reasonable  conjecture,  which  might  either  be 
true  or  false,  were  it  not  warranted  from  Scripture, 
which  declares  the  Godhead  to  exist  in  three  persons 
united  in  one  nature  or  essence  ; from  whence  I make 
no  difficulty  to  conclude,  that  it  is  that  particular  mode 
of  existence,  which  constitutes  the  perfection  and  felicity 
of  the  Deity.  And  I think  I may,  without  presumption, 
affirm,  that,  in  conjunction  with  infinite  wisdom  and 
almighty  power,  infinite  harmony  and  love  are  the  feli- 
city of  the  Deity,  and  complete  its  perfection.  In  call- 
ing this  a rational  essay,  all  that  I mean,  is,  to  show, 
that  the  Trinity,  as  it  is  revealed  in  Scripture,  is  not  a 
notion  absurd  or  contradictory  to  our  reason;  which  is 
too  frequently  objected  to  it. 

an  humble  attempt,  to  illustrate  the  true  mean- 
ing and  end  of  the  sacrament  of  the  lord’s 

supper. 

I will  not  suppose,  that  any  question  will  be  made, 
whether  a person  who  believes  the  divinity  of  our  Sa- 


280  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

vionr,  and  acknowledges  his  satisfaction  for  the  sins  of 
mankind,  who  truly  repents  of  his  sins,  and  resolves 
sincerely  to^forsake  them,  and  who,  in  obedience  to  our 
Saviour’s  commands,  communicates  in  the  sacrament 
of  his  body  and  blood,  receives  worthily  or  not. 

His  believing  that  there  is  no  change  or  alteration  in 
the  elements  of  bread  and  wine  after  consecration,  will 
not,  I suppose,  alter  the  case.  If  he  believes,  as  it  is 
most  natural  to  believe,  that  our  Saviour,  jvhen  he 
said,  ‘‘  This  is  my  body,  this  is  my  blood,”  did,  by  the 
same  almighty  word  of  power,  which  said,  “ Let  there 
be  light,  and  there  Vv  as  light,”  ordain  and  decree  that 
all  those  blessings  and  benefits  which  he  had  purchased 
and  procured  for  mankind,  by  his  passion,  death,  and 
intercession,  should,  as  long  as  the  world  continues, 
attend  upon  the  sacred  action,  and  be  annexed  to  it ; and 
that  every  individual  person,  who,  in  a just  and  thank- 
ful remembrance  of  what  his  Saviour  had  done  and 
suffered  for  him,  should,  in  obedience  to  his  command, 
receive  the  sacrament  of  his  body  and  blood, — every 
such  person,  should  be  made  a partaker  of  all  the  bless- 
ings and  benefits  of  his  passion  and  death  ; obtaining  a 
perfect  remission  of  his  sins,  and  eternal  salvation 
through  his  merits  and  intercession,  if  he  persevered  in 
obedience  to  him  : so  that,  according  to  the  definition  of 
our  Church,  the  bread  and  wine  in  this  sacrament  would 
be,  most  certainly,  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  an 
inward  and  spiritual  grace. 

This  notion  would  put  an  end  to  all  the  disputes 
about  transubstantiation  and  consubstantiation,  and 
would  fully  answer  all  the  desirable ‘ends  and  purposes 
of  this  sacrament ; and,  indeed,  it  really  and  truly 
seems  to  be  the  plain  and  natural  meaning  of  the  words 
of  our  blessed  Saviour. 

We  are  not  to  imagine,  that  this  last  injunction,  of 
the  highest  endearment  between  our  Saviour  and  his 
disciples,  was  only  a barren^  rite  or  ceremony,  if  I 
may  so  say,  to  entitle  them  to  the  same  blessing  of 
acceptance,  common  to  all  other  acts  of  obedience  and 
devotion ; but  that  these  words  of  our  Saviour,  “ This 


» By  barren  is  only  meant,  void  of  any  new  or  extraordinary 
privilege. 


HOW.]  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  281 

is  my  body,  this  is  my  blood,”  without  his  having  any 
thought  of  changing  the  elements  of  bread  and  wine, 
do,  by  a plain  interpretation,  assure  us,  that  the  action 
of  receiving  should  effectually  be  attended  with  a full 
participation  of  the  benefits  purchased,  and  of  the 
atonement  made  for  us,  by  his  body  crucified,  and  by 
his  blood. shed  upon  the  cross,  for  the  redemption  of 
mankind. 

It  is  infinite  mercy  and  almighty  power,  that  has,  to 
the  end  of  the  world,  annexed  those  blessings  to  this 
holy  sacrament ; and  it  is  by  faith  and  obedience  only, 
that  we  can  be  rendered  capable  of  receiving  them ; 
nor  does  it  depend,  as  the  Papists  absurdly  imagine, 
upon  the  intention  of  the  priest,  whether  the  com- 
municants shall  receive  these  blessings  or  not ; neither 
is  there  any  occasion  or  reason  for  the  repeated  sacri- 
fices of  the  mass.  The  foregoing  notion  can  be  con- 
futed by  nothing,  but  by  plain  and  positive  words  of 
Scripture,  which  are  nowhere  to  be  found.  As  for 
inferences  to  be  drawn  from  them,  those  which  favor 
and  support  this  notion,  are  the  most  just,  easy,  and 
natural,  and,  freeing  the  mind  from  doubts  and  diffi- 
culties, render  this  great  mystery  as  intelligible  as  it 
is  possible  to  be ; sufficiently  affording  to  every  de- 
vout communicant  a rational  satisfaction  and  comfort. 
When  we  consider  how  much  is  given,  and  how  much 
is  forgiven  us,  it  cannot  fail  to  kindle  in  our  souls  the 
strongest  flame  of  love  they  are  capable  of  entertaining, 
for  each  of  the  divine  persons  in  the  blessed  Trinity ; 
to  whom  all  duty,  praise,  and  love  must  be  for  ever  due. 

The  best  preparation  for  the  performance  of  this 
duty,  is,  a constant  endeavor  of  becoming  a sincere 
Christian : without  which  all  devotion  is  vain  and  inef- 
fectual ; and  with  which,  every  religious  duty  will  most 
certainly  be  accompanied  with  success  and  acceptance. 
But,  since,  through  the  exceeding  weakness  and  imper- 
fection of  our  nature,  even  the  best  of  men  are  too 
often  apt  to  be  remiss  in  their  duties,  and  to  slacken 
their  endeavors  of  pleasing  God,  it  is  most  reasonable, 
that,  when  we  are  about  to  commemorate  the  exceeding 
love  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  in  his  death  and  sufferings 
for  us,  we  should  diligently  apply  ourselves  to  repair 
our  remissness,  and  strive  to  raise  our  minds  and  affec- 
24^ 


282  DEVOUT  MEDITATIONS.  [HOW. 

tions  to  the  highest  sense  of  duty  and  gratitude  ; which 
is  all  the  return  we  are  capable  of  making,  for  these 
inestimable  blessings  we  are  about  to  receive. 

The  celebration  of  this  sacrament  is  most  fitly  and 
solemnly  performed  in  the  Church  of  England,  and  in  a 
manner  perfectly  agreeable  to  its  first  institution.  The 
elements  are  set  apart  and  consecrated  for  that  holy 
purpose,  and  prayer  is  made  for  the  fulfilling  of  that 
promise  which  was  virtually  made  by  the  words  of  our 
blessed  Saviour  ; who  is  petitioned,  that  his  body  which 
was  given  for  us,  and  his  blood  which  was  shed  for  us, 
may  preserve  our  bodies  and  souls  unto  everlasting  life, 
and  that  we  should  ever  thankfully  remember  his  infi- 
nite mercy  toward  us.  All  divine  promises  for  mercy 
and  blessings,  though  fixed  and  positive,  yet  the  stated 
condition  of  our  obtaining  them,  is  by  duty  and  prayer  ; 
it  being  vain  to  imagine,  that  the  greatest  of  benefits 
should  be  bestowed  upon  any,  who  do  not  earnestly 
covet  and  desire  them. 


TWO  SERMONS 


BY  RALPH  CUDWORTH,  D.  D. 


Evo'£/?£t,  w rcKvov  b yap  cuae/^wv,  aKpas 
Xpiffuaviapos  corn  rrjs  ^ziag  <pvae(og  fxifirjais, 

S.  Greg.  Nyss. 


‘Thus,  Moses-like,  conversing  with  God  in  the' mount,  and  there 
beholding  his  glory  shining  thus  out  upon  us,  in  the  face  of  Christ, 
we  should  be  deriving  a copy  of  that  eternal  beauty  upon  our  own  souls ; 
and  our  thirsty  and  hungry  spirits  would  be  perpetually  imbibing 
a true  participation  and  image  of  his  glory.  A true  divine  love  would 
wing  our  souls,  and  make  them  take  their  flight  swiftly  toward  heaven 
and  immortality.  Could  we  once  be  thoroughly  possessed  and  mastered 
with  a full  confidence  of  the  divine  love,  and  of  God’s  readiness  to 
assist  such  feeble,  languishing  creatures  as  we  are,  in  our  essays  after 
heaven  and  blessedness,  we  should  then,  finding  ourselves  borne  up  by 
an  eternal  and  almighty  strength,  dare  to  adventure,  courageously  and 
confidently,  upon  the  highest  degrees  of  happiness,  to  assail  the  King 
of  heaven  with  a holy  gallantry  and  violence,  to  pursue  a course  of 
well-doing  without  weariness ; knowing  that  our  labor  shall  not  be 
vain  in  the  Lord,  and  that  we  shall  receive  our  reward,  if  we  faint  not : 
we  should  work  out  our  salvation  in  the  most  industrious  manner, 
trusting  in  God,  as  one  ready  to  instil  strength  and  power  into  all  the 
vital  faculties  of  our  souls : we  should  “ press  toward  the  mark,  for 
the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God,  in  Christ  Jesus,  that  we  may 
apprehend  that,  for  which  also  we  are  apprehended,  of  Christ  Jesus.”  ’ 
John  Smith.  Select  Discourses, 


TWO  SERMONS, 


BY  RALPH  CUDWORTH,  D.  D. 


SERMON  I. 

THEY  KNOW  CHRISTj  WHO  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS. 


1 John,  ii.  3,  4. 

And  hereby  we  do  know  that  we  know  him^  if  we  keep  his  com- 
mandments. He  that  saith,  I know  him^  and  keepeth  not  his  com- 
mandments^ is  a liar,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  him. 

We  have  much  inquiry  concerning  knowledge,  in 
these  latter  times.  The  sons  of  Adam  are  now  as  busy 
as  ever  Adam  himself  was,  about  the  tree  of  knowledge 
of  good  and  evil ; shaking  its  boughs,  and  scrambling 
for  the  fruit : whilst,  I fear,  many  are  too  unmindful  of 
the  tree  of  life.  And  though  there  be  now  no  cherubim 
with  their  flaming  swords,  to  fright  men  off,  yet  the  way 
that  leads  to  it  seems  to  be  solitary  and  untrodden,  as 
if  there  were  but  few  that  had  any  mind  to  taste  of  its 
fruit.  There  are  many,  that  speak  of  new  glimpses 
and  discoveries  of  truth,  of  dawnings  of  Gospel  light. 
And  no  question,  but  God  has  reserved  much  of  this, 
for  the  very  evening  and  sun-set  of  the  world ; for,  in 
the  latter  days,  “ knowledge  shall  be  increased.”  But 
yet,  I wish  we  could,  in  the  mean  time,  see  that  day 
dawn,  which  the  apostle  speaks  of,  and  that  “ day-star 
arise,  in  men’s  hearts.”  I wish,  whilst  we  talk  of  light, 
and  dispute  about  truth,  that  we  could  walk  more  as 
“ children  of  the  light.”  But,  if  Saint  John’s  rule,  in 
the  text,  be  good,  that  no  man  truly  knows  Christ, 
but  he  who  keeps  his  commandments, — it  is  much  to  be 
suspected,  that  many  of  us,  who  pretend  to  light,  have  a 
thick  and  gloomy  darkness  within,  overspreading  our 
souls. 


286  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

There  are  now  many  large  volumes  and  discourses 
written  concerning  Christ  ; thousands  of  controversies 
discussed,  infinite  problems  determined,  concerning  his 
divinity,  humanity,  union  of  both  together,  and  what 
not.  So  that  our  bookish  Christians,  who  have  all  their 
religion  in  writings  and  papers,  think  they  are  com- 
pletely furnished  with  all  kinds  of  knowledge  concern- 
ing Christ.  And,  when  they  see  all  their  leaves  lying 
about  them,  they  think  they  have  a.  goodly  stock  of 
knowledge  and  truth,  and  cannot  possibly  miss  the  way 
to  heaven  ; as  if  religion  were  nothing  but  a little  book- 
scrap,  a mere  paper-skill. 

But  if  Saint  John’s  rule  here  be  good,  we  must  not 
judge  of  our  knowing  Christ,  by  our  skill  in  books 
and  papers,  but  by  our  keeping  his  commandments. 
And  that,  I fear,  will  discover  many  of  us,  notwith- 
standing all  this  light  which  we  boast  of  round  about 
us,  to  have  nothing  but  Egyptian  darkness  within  our 
hearts. 

The  vulgar  sort  think,  that  they  know  Christ  enough, 
out  of  their  creeds,  and  catechisms,  and  confessions  of 
faith : and,  if  they  have  but  a little  acquainted  tfiem- 
selves  with  these,  and,  like  parrots,  have  conned  the 
words  of  them,  they  doubt  not,  but  that  they  are  suf- 
hcientiy  instructed  in  all  the  mysteries  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  Many  of  the  more  learned,  if  they  can  but 
wrangle  and  dispute  about  Christ,  imagine  themselves 
to  be  grown  great  proficients  in  the  school  of  Christ* 

The  greater  part  of  the  world,  whether  learned  or 
unlearned,  think,  that  there  is  no  need  of  purging  and 
purifying  their  hearts,  for  the  right  knowledge  of 
Christ  and  his  Gospel.  But,  though  their  lives  be  never 
so  wicked,  and  their  hearts  never  so  foul  within,  yet 
they  may  know  Christ  sufficiently  out  of  their  trea- 
tises and  discourses,  out  of  their  mere  systems  and 
bodies  of  divinity.  Which  I deny  not  to  be  useful,  in 
a subordinate  way;  although  our  Saviour  prescribes  to 
his  disciples  another  method,  for  coming  to  the  right 
knowledge  of  divine  truths:  “He  that  will  do  my 
Father’s  will,  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be 
of  God.”  The  true  Christian,  indeed,  is  not  he  that  is 
only  book-taught,  but  he,  that  is  God-taught;  he,  that 
has  “ an  unction  from  the  Holy  One,”  “ that  teacheth 


SERM.  I.] 


KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS. 


287 


him  all  things ; ” he,  that  has  the  Spirit  of  Christ 
within  him,  that  searcheth  out  the  deep  things  of  God  : 
“ For,  as  no  man  knoweth  the  things  of  a man,  save 
the  spirit  of  a man,  which  is  in  him ; even  so,  the 
things  of  God  knoweth  no  man,  but  the  spirit  of  God.” 

Ink  and  paper  can  never  make  us  Christians,  can 
never  beget  a new  nature,  a living  principle  in  us ; can 
never  form  Christ,  or  any  true  notions  of  spiritual 
things,  in  our  hearts.  The  Gospel,  that  new  law  which 
Christ  delivered  to  the  world,  is  not  merely  a dead  let- 
ter without  us,  but  a quickening  spirit  within  us.  Cold 
theorems  and  maxims,  dry  and  jejune  disputes,  lean  syl- 
logistical  reasonings,  could  never  yet,  of  themselves, 
beget  the  least  glimpses  of  true  heavenly  light,  the  least 
sap  of  saving  knowledge,  in  any  heart.  All  this  is  but 
the  groping  of  the  poor  dark  spirit  of  man  after  truth  ; 
to  find  it  out  with  his  own  endeavors,  and  feel  it  with 
his  own  cold  and  benumbed  hands.  Words  and  sylla- 
bles, which  are  but  dead  things,  cannot  possibly  convey 
the  living  notions  of  heavenly  truth  to  us.  The  secret 
mysteries  of  a Divine  life,  of  a new  nature,  of  Christ 
formed  in  our  hearts,  cannot  be  written  or  spoken ; 
language  and  expressions  cannot  reach  them  : neither 
can  they  be  ever  truly  understood,  except  the  soul  itself 
be  kindled  from  within,  and  awakened  into  the  life 
which  animates  them.  A painter  that  would  draw  a 
rose,  though  he  may  flourish  some  likeness  of  it  in 
figure  and  color,  can  yet  never  paint  the  scent  and 
fragrancy ; or,  if  he  would  draw  a flame,  he  cannot  put 
a constant  heat  into  his  colors;  he  cannot  make  his 
pencil  drop  a sound,  as  the  echo  in  the  epigram  mocks 
at  him.^  All  the  skill  of  cunning  artizans  and  mechanics, 
cannot  put  a principle  of  life  into  a statue  of  their  own 
making.  Neither  are  we  able  to  enclose  in  words  and 
letters,  the  life,  soul,  and  essence,  of  any  spiritual  truths, 
and,  as  it  were,  to  incorporate  it  in  them. 

Some  philosophers  have  determined,  that  virtue  can- 
not be  taught,  by  any  certain  rules  or  precepts.  Men 
and  books  may  propound  some  directions  to  us,  that 
may  engage  us  in  a course  of  life,  and  practice,  by 
means  of  which,  we  shall  at  last  find  virtue  within  our- 


* ‘ Si  vis  similem  pingere,  pinge  sonum.’ 


288 


THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

selves,  and  be  experimentally  acquainted  with  it ; but 
they  cannot  teach  it  us,  like  a mechanic  art  or  trade. 
No,  surely  : “ there  is  a spirit  in  man ; and  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  Almighty  giveth  understanding.”  But  we 
shall  not  meet  with  this  spirit  any  where  but  in  the  way 
of  obedience  : the  knowledge  of  Christ,  and  the  keep- 
ing of  his  commandments,  must  always  go  together,  and 
be  mutual  causes  of  one  another : 

“ Hereby  we  know  that  we  know  him,  if  we  keep  his 
commandments.  He  that  saith,  I know  him,  and  keep- 
eth  not  his  commandments,  is  a liar,  and  the  truth  is 
not  in  him.” 

I come  now  to  these  words  themselves;  which  are  so 
pregnant,  that  I shall  not  need  to  force  out  any  thing 
from  them.  I shall,  therefore,  only  take  notice  of  some 
few  observations,  which  drop  from  them,  of  their  own 
accord  ; and  then  conclude,  with  some  application  of 
them  to  ourselves. 

I.  First,  then,  if  our  keeping  Christ’s  command- 
ments, be  the  right  method  of  discovering  our  know- 
ledge of  Christ,  then,  we  may  safely  draw  conclusions 
concerning  our  state  and  condition,  from  the  conform- 
ity of  our  lives  to  the  will  of  our  Redeemer. 

Would  we  know  whether  we  know  Christ  aright, 
let  us  consider  whether  the  life  of  Christ  be  in  us. 
He  that  has  not  the  life  of  Christ  in  him,  has  nothing 
but  the  name,  nothing  but  a fancy  of  Christ  ; he  has 
not  the  substance  of  him.^  Whoso  builds  his  house 
upon  this  foundation,  not  an  airy  notion  of  Christ 
swimming  in  his  brain,  but  on  Christ  really  dwelling 
and  living  in  his  heart,  as  our  Saviour  himself  bears 
witness,  he  “ buildeth  his  house  upon  a rock  ; and  when 
the  floods  come,  and  the  winds  blow,  and  the  rain 
descends,  and  beats  upon  it,  it  shall  stand  impregnably. 
But  he  who  builds  all  his  comfort, upon  an  ungrounded 
persuasion,  that  God,  from  all  eternity,  has  loved  him, 
and  absolutely  decreed  him  to  life  and  happiness,  and 
seeks  not  for  God  really  dwelling  in  his  soul,— he  builds 
his  house  upon  a quicksand,  and  it  shall  suddenly  sink, 
and  be  swallowed  up  : “ His  hope  shall  be  cut  ofl’,  and 
his  trust  shall  be  a spider’s  web  ; he  shall  lean  upon  his 


b ‘ Q,ui  non  habet  vitaifl  Christi,  Christum  non  habct.’ 


SERM.  1.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  289 

house  but  it  shall  not  stand  ; he  shall  hold  it  fast  but  it 
shall  not  endure.” 

We  are  nowhere  commanded  to  pry  into  these  se- 
crets ; but  the  wholesome  counsel  and  advice  given  to  us 
is  this,  “ to  make  our  calling  and  election  sure.”  We 
have  no  warrant  in  Scripture  to  peep  into  these  hidden 
rolls  and  volumes  of  eternity ; and  to  make  it  our  first 
object,  when  we  come  to  Christ,  to  spell  out  our  names 
in  the  stars;  and  to  persuade  ourselves,  that  we  are 
certainly  elected  to  everlasting  happiness,  before  we 
see  the  image  of  God,  in  righteousness  and  true  holi- 
ness, shaped  in  our  hearts.  God’s  everlasting  decree 
is  too  dazzling  and  bright  an  object,  for  us  to  set  our 
eye  upon.  It  is  far  easier  and  safer  for  us,  to  look 
upon  the  rays  of  his  goodness  and  holiness,  as  they 
are  reflected  in  our  hearts ; and  there  to  read  the  mild 
and  gentle  characters  of  God’s  love  to  us,  in  our  love 
to  him  and  our  hearty  compliance  with  his  heavenly 
will : as  it  is  safer  for  us,  if  we  would  see  the  sun,  to 
look  upon  it  here  below  in  a pail  of  water,  than  to  cast 
up  our  daring  eyes  upon  the  body  of  the  sun  itself, 
which  is  too  radiant  and  scorching  for  us.  The  best 
assurance  that  any  one  can  have  of  his  interest  in 
God,  is,  doubtless,  the  conformity  of  his  soul  to  God. 
Those  divine  purposes,  whatsoever  they  may  be,  are 
altogether  unsearchable  and  unknowable:  they  lie  wrap- 
ped up  in  everlasting  darkness,  and  covered  in  a deep 
abyss.  Who  is  able  to  fathom  the  bottom  of  them  ? 

Let  us  not,  therefore,  make  this  our  first  attempt  to- 
ward God  and  religion,  to  persuade  ourselves  strongly 
of  these  everlasting  decrees.  For  if,  at  our  first  flight, 
we  aim  so  high,  we  shall  haply  but  scorch  our  wings, 
and  be  struck  back  with  lightning  ; as  those  giants  of 
old  were,  that  would  needs  attempt  to  assault  heaven. 
And  it  is,  indeed,  a most  gigantic  essay,  to  thrust  our- 
selves so  boldly  into  the  lap  of  heaven.  It  is  a prank  of 
Nimrod,  of  a mighty  hunter,  thus  rudely  to  deal  with 
God  ; and  to  force  heaven  and  happiness  before  his 
face,  whether  he  will  or  not.  The  way  to  obtain  a good 
assurance,  indeed,  of  our  title  to  heaven,  is  not  to  clam- 
ber up  to  it  by  a ladder  of  our  own  ungrounded  persua- 
sions, but  to  dig  as  low  as  hell,  by  humility  and  self-de- 
nial in  our  own  hearts : and,  though  this  may  seem  to 


290  ^ THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH* 

be  the  farthest  way  about,  yet  it  is,  indeed,  the  nearest 
and  safest  way  to  it.  We  must,  as  the  Greek  epigram 
speaks,  ascend  downward,  and  descend  upward*"  if  we 
would  indeed  come  to  heaven,  or  get  any  true  per- 
suasion of  our  title  to  it. 

The  most  gallant  and  triumphant  conjidence  of  a 
Christian  riseth  safely  and  surely  on  this  low  founda- 
tion, that  lies  deep  under  ground,  and  there  stands  firmly 
and  steadfastly.  When  our  heart  is  once  turned  into  a 
conformity  with  the  w^ord  of  God,  w^hen  we  feel  our 
will  perfectly  to  concur  with  his  will,  we  shall  then 
presently  perceive  a spirit  of  adoption  within  ourselves, 
teaching  us  to  cry,  Abba,  Father ! We  shall  not  then 
care  for  peeping  into  those  hidden  records  of  eternity,  to 
see  whether  our  names  be  written  there  in  golden  cha- 
racters ; no,  we  shall  find  a copy  of  God’s  thoughts 
concerning  us,  written  in  our  own  breasts.  There,  w^e 
may  read  the  characters  of  his  favor  to  us  ; there,  we 
may  feel  an  inw^ard  sense  of  his  love  to  us,  flowing  out 
of  our  hearty  and  unfeigned  love  to  him.  And  w^e  shall 
be  more  undoubtedly  persuaded  of  it,  than  if  any  of 
those  winged  watchmen  above,  who  are  privy  to  hea- 
ven’s secrets,  should  come  and  tell  us,  that  they  saw  our 
names  enrolled  in  those  volumes  of  eternity.  But,  on 
the  contrary,  though  we  strive  to  persuade  ourselves 
ever  so  confidently,  that  God  from  all  eternity  hath 
loved  us  and  elected  us  to  life  and  happiness, — if  yet, 
in  the  mean  time,  we  entertain  any  iniquity  within  our 
hearts,  and  willingly  close  with  any  temptation, — do 
what  W'e  can,  we  shall  find  many  a cold  qualm,  every 
now  and  then  seizing  upon  us,  at  approaching  dangers  : 
and,  when  death  itself  shall  grimly  look  us  in  the  face, 
we  shall  feel  our  hearts  die  within  us,  and  our  spirits 
quite  faint  away,  though  we  strive  to  raise  them,  and  re- 
cover them,  never  so  much,  with  the  strong  winters*’  of 
our  ungrounded  presumptions.  The  least  inward  evil, 
willingly  continued,  will  be  like  a worm  fretting  the 
gourd  of  our  jolly  confidence  and  presumptuous  persua- 
sion of  God’s  love,  and  always  gnawing  at  the  root  of  it ; 
and,  though  we  strive  to  keep  it  alive,  and  continually 

® Ava^aivciv  Karitiy  Kara^aivziv  avoj» 

d- Aqua  vitsB. 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  291 

besprinkle  it  with  some  dews  of  our  own,  yet,  it  will  be 
always  dying  and  withering  in  our  bosoms.  But  a good 
conscience  within,  will  be  always  better  to  a Christian, 
than  “ health  to  his  navel,  or  marrow  to  his  bones it 
will  be  an  everlasting  cordial  to  his  heart ; it  will  be 
.softer  to  him  than  a bed  of  down,  and  he  may  sleep  se- 
curely upon  it,  ill  the  midst  of  raging  and  tempestuous 
seas,  ivhen  the  winds  bluster,  and  the  waves  beat  round 
about  him.  A good  conscience  is  the  best  looking-glass 
of  heaven  ; in  which  the  soul  may  see  God’s  thoughts 
and  purposes  concerning  it,  reflected  as  so  many  shining 
stars : “ Hereby  we  know  Christ  ; hereby  we  know 
that  Christ  loves  us,  if  we  keep  his  commandments.” 

II.  Secondly,  If  hereby  only  we  know,  that  we  know 
Christ,  by  our  keeping  his  commandments,  then  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  does  not  consist  merely  in  a few 
barren  notions,  in  a form  of  certain  dry  and  sapless 
opinions. 

Christ  came  not  into  the  world  to  All  our  heads  ivith 
mere  speculations  ; to  kindle  a fire  of  wrangling  and 
contentious  dispute  among  us  ; and  to  warm  our  spirits 
against  one  another,  with  angry  and  peevish  debates  : 
whilst,  in  the  mean  time,  our  hearts  remain  all  ice 
within  toward  God,  and  have  not  the  least  spark  of  true 
heavenly  fire  to  melt  and  thaw  them.  Christ  came  not 
to  possess  our  brains  with  some  cold  opinions,  that  send 
down  a freezing  and  benumbing  influence  upon  our 
hearts.  Christ  was  a master  of  life,  not  of  the 
schools and  he  is  the  best  Christian,  whose  heart 
beats  with  the  purest  pulse  toward  heaven  ; not  he, 
whose  head  spins  out  the  finest  cobwebs. 

He  that  endeavors  really  to  mortify  his  passions,  and 
in  his  life,  to  comply  with  that  truth  which  his  con- 
science is  convinced  of,  is  nearer  a Christian,  though  he 
never  heard  of  Christ,  than  he  who  believes  all  the 
common  articles  of  the  Christian  faith,  and  plainly 
denies  Christ  in  his  life. 

Surely  the  way  to  heaven,  that  Christ  has  taught  us, 
is  plain  and  easy^  if  we  have  but  honest  hearts  : we  need 
not  many  criticisms,  many  school  distinctions,  to  come 
to  a right  understanding  of  it.  Surely  Christ  came 


* Vitse  magister,  non  scholae. 


292  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

not  to  ensnare  us,  and  entangle  us,  with  captious 
niceties;  or  to  puzzle  our  heads,  with  deep  specula- 
tions ; or  to  lead  us  through  hard  and  craggy  notions, 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  I persuade  myself,  that  no 
man  shall  ever  be  kept  out  of  heaven,  for  not  compre- 
hending mysteries  that  were  beyond  the  reach  of  his 
shallow  understanding,  if  he  had  an  honest  and  good 
heart,  that  was  ready  to  comply  with  Christ’s  com- 
mandments. ‘‘  Say  not  in  thy  heart.  Who  shall  ascend 
into  heaven  ?”  that  is,  with  high  speculations,  to  bring 
down  Christ  from  thence  ; or,  “ Who  shall  descend 
into  the  abyss  beneath?”  that  is,  with  deep  searching 
thoughts,  to  fetch  up  Christ  from  thence  : but  lo,  “ the 
word  is  nigh  thee,  even  in  thy  mouth,  and  in  thy  heart.” 

But  I wish  it  were  not  the  distemper  of  our  times, 
to  scare  and  fright  men  with  opinions,  and  make  them 
solicitous  only  about  entertaining  this  and  that  specula- 
lation,  which  will  not  render  them  any  thing  the  better 
in  their  lives,  or  the  liker  unto  God  ; whilst,  in  the 
mean  time,  there  is  no  such  care  taken  about  our  keep- 
ing Christ’s  commandments,  and  being  renewed  in  our 
minds  according  to  the  image  of  God,  in  righteousness 
and  true  holiness.  We  say,  ‘‘Lo,  here  is  Christ,” 
and,  “ Lo,  there  is  Christ,” — in  these  and  those  opi- 
nions ; whereas,  in  truth,  Christ  is  neither  here,  nor 
there,  nor  any  where,  but  where  the  Spirit  of  Christ, 
where  the  life  of  Christ  is. 

Do  we  not,  now-a-days,  open  and  lock  up  heaven 
with  the  private  key  of  this  and  that  opinion  of  our 
own,  according  to  our  several  fancies,  as  we  please? 
And,  if  any  one  observe  Christ’s  commandments  never 
so  sincerely,  and  serve  God  with  faith  and  a pure  con- 
science, yet,  haply,  understands  not  some  contended-for 
opinions,  some  darling  notions,  he  has  not  the  right 
shibboleth^  he  has  not  the  true  watch-word,  he  must 
not  pass  the  guards  into  heaven.  Do  we  not  make  this 
and  that  opinion,  this  and  that  outward  form,  to  be  the 
wedding-garment ; and  boldly  sentence  to  outer  dark- 
ness, those  who  are  not  invested  with  it  ? Whereas, 
every  true  Christian  finds  the  least  dram  of  hearty 
affections  toward  God,  to  be  more  cordial  and  sove- 
reign to  his  soul,  than  all  the  speculative  notions  and 
opinions  in  the  w^orld  ; and  though  he  study,  also,  to 


293 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS. 

inform  his  understanding  aright,  and  free  his  mind  from 
all  error  and  misapprehensions,  yet  it  is  nothing  but 
the  life  of  Christ  deeply  rooted  in  his  heart,  that  is 
the  chemical  elixir  which  he  feeds  upon.  Had  he  “ all 
faith,  that  he  could  remove  mountains,”  as  Saint  Paul 
speaks,  had  he  “all  knowledge,  all  tongues  and  lan- 
guages,” yet  he  prizes  one  dram  of  love,  beyond  them 
all.  He  accounts  him  that  feeds  upon  mere  notions  in 
religion,  to  be  but  an  airy  and  camelion-like  Christian. 
He  now  finds  himself  otherwise  rooted  and  centred  in 
God,  than  formerly,  when  he  merely  contemplated  and 
gazed  upon  Him;  he  tastes  and  relishes  God  within 
himself ; he  has  quendam  saporem  Dei,  a certain  savor 
of  God  ; whereas,  before,  he  did  but  rove  and  guess 
after  Him  at  random.  He  feels  himself  safely  anchor- 
ed in  God,  and  will  not  be  dissuaded  from  enjoying 
God,  though  perhaps  he  skill  not  many  of  those  sub- 
tleties, which  others  make  the  alpha  and  omega  of  their 
religion.  Neither  is  he  scared  by  those  childish  affright- 
ments,  with  which  some  would  force  their  private  con- 
ceits upon  him ; he  is  above  the  superstitious  dread  of 
mere  speculative  opinions,  as  well  as  the  superstitious 
reverence  of  mere  outward  ceremonies;  he  cares  not 
so  much  for  subtilty,  as  for  soundness  and  health  qf 
mind.  And,  indeed,  as  it  was  well  spoken  by  a noble 
philosopher,  that,  ‘ without  purity  and  virtue,  God  is 
nothing  but  an  empty  name  so  it  is  as  true  here,  that, 
without  obedience  to  Christ’s  commandments,  without 
the  life  of  Christ  dwelling  in  us,  whatsoever  opinion 
we  may  entertain  of  him,  Christ  is  only  named  by  us, 
he  is  not  knoion.  • 

I speak  not  here  against  a free  and  ingenuous  inquiry 
into  all  truth,  according  to  our  several  abilities  and  op- 
portunities ; I plead  not  for  captivating  and  enthralling 
our  judgments  to  the  dictates  of  men;  I do  not  dispa- 
rage the  natural  improvement  of  our  faculties  by  true 
knowledge,  which  is  so  noble  and  gallant  a perfection 
of  the  mind.  The  thing  which  I aim  against,  is  dis^ 
piriting  the  life  and  vigor  of  our  religion,  by  dry  specu^ 
lations  ; and  making  it  nothing  but  a mere  dead  skeleton 
of  opinions,  a few  dry  bones  tied  up  together,  without 

/ Avev  apcTijS)  Oeos  ovofxa  fxovov, 

25^ 


294  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

any  flesh  and  sinews ; and  misplacing,  upon  an  eager 
prosecution  of  these  opinions,  all  that  zeal,  which  should 
be  spent  to  better  purpose  upon  nobler  objects. 

Knowledge,  indeed,  is  a thing  far  more  excellent  than 
riches,  outward  pleasures,  worldly  dignities,  or  any 
thing  else  in  the  world,  besides  holiness,  and  the  con- 
formity of  our  wills  to  the  will  of  God  ; yet,  our 
happiness  consists  not  in  knowledge,  but  in  a certain 
divine  temper  and  constitution  of  soul,  which  is  far 
above  it. 

But  it  is  a piece  of  that  corruption  which  runs 
through  human  nature,  that  we  naturally  prize  truth, 
more  than  goodness ; knowledge,  more  than  holiness. 
We  think  it  a gallant  thing,  to  be  fluttering  up  to  heaven 
with  our  wings  of  knowledge  and  speculation ; whereas, 
the  highest  mystery  of  a divine  life  here,  and  of  per- 
fect happiness  hereafter,  consists  in  nothing  but  mere 
obedience  to  the  divine  will.  Happiness  is  nothing 
but  that  inward  sweet  delight,  which  will  arise  from 
the  harmonious  agreement  between  our  wills  and  the 
will  of  God. 

There  is  nothing  contrary  to  God  in  the  whole  world, 
nothing  that  fights  against  him,  but  self-will.  This  is 
the  strong  castle  that  we  all  keep  garrisoned  against 
heaven,  in  every  one  of  our  hearts,  which  God  con- 
tinually layeth  siege  unto  : and  it  must  be  conquered 
and  demolished,  before  we  can  conquer  heaven.  It 
was  by  reason  of  this  self-will  that  Adam  fell,  in  para- 
dise; that  those  glorious  angels,  those  morning  stars, 
kept  not  their  first  station,  but  dropped  down- from 
heaven  like  falling.stars,  and  sunk  into  that  condition 
of  bitterness,  anxiety,  and  wretchedness,  to  which  they 
are  now  reduced.  They  all  entangled  themselves  with 
the  length  of  their  own  wings ; they  would  needs  will 
more,  and  otherwise,  than  God  would  will  in  them; 
and,  going  about  to  make  their  wills  wider,  and  to  en- 
large them  into  greater  amplitude,  the  more  they  strug- 
gled, they  found  themselves  the  faster  pinioned,  and 
crowded  up  into  narrowness  and  servility:  insomuch, 
that  now  they  are  not  dble  to  use  any  wings  at  all,  but, 
inheriting  the  serpent’s  curse,  can  only  creep  with  their 
bellies  upon  the  earth.  Now,  our  only  way  to  recover 
God  and  happiness  again,  is,  not  to  soar  up  with  our 


295 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS. 

understandings,  but  to  destroy  this  self-will  of  ours ; 
and  then  we  shall  find  our  wings  grow  again,  our  plumes 
fairly  spread,  and  ourselves  raised  aloft  into  the  free  air 
of  perfect  liberty,  which  is  perfect  happiness. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  whole  world  able  to  do  us 
good  or  hurt,  but  God,  and  our  own  will ; neither  riches 
nor  poverty,  nor  disgrace  nor  honor,  nor  life  nor  death, 
nor  angels  nor  devils ; but  willing  or  not  willing  as  we 
ought.  Should  hell  itself  cast  all  its  fiery  darts  against 
us,  if  our  will  be  right,  if  it  be  informed  by  the  divine 
will,  they  can  do  us  no  hurt ; we  have  then,  if  I may 
so  speak,  an  enchanted  shield,  that  is  impenetrable,  and 
will  bear  off  all.  God  will  not  hurt  us,  and  hell  cannot 
hurt  us,  if  we  will  nothing  but  what  God  wills.  Nay, 
then  we  are  actuated  by  God  himself,  and  the  whole 
divinity  Hows  in  upon  us;  and,  when  we  have  cash- 
iered this  self-will  of  ours,  which  did  but  shackle  and 
confine  our  souls,  our  wills  shall  then  become  truly 
free,  being  widened  and  enlarged  to  the  extent  of  God’s 
own  will.  “Hereby  we  know,  that  we  know  Christ 
indeed,”  not  by  our  speculative  opinions  concerning 
him,  but  “by  our  keeping  of  his  commandments.” 

III.  Thirdly,  if  hereby  we  are  to  judge,  whether  we 
truly  know  Christ,  by  our  keeping  of  his  command- 
ments, so  that,  he  that  saith  he  knoweth  him,  and  keep- 
eth  not  his  commandments,  is  a liar ; — then,  this  was  not 
the  plot  and  design  of  the  Gospel,  to  give  the  world, 
upon  what  pretence  soever,  an  indulgence  to  sin. 

But  we  are  too  prone  to  make  such  misconstructions 
of  the  Gospel;  as  if  God  had  intended  nothing  else  by 
it  but  to  dandle  our  corrupt  nature,  and  contrive  a 
smooth  and  easy  way  for  us  to  attain  happiness,  without 
the  toilsome  labor  of  subduing  our  appetites,  and  sin- 
ful affections  : or,  as  if  the  Gospel  were  nothing  else 
but  a declaration  to  the  world,  of  God’s  engaging  his 
affections,  from  all  eternity,  on  some  particular  per- 
sons ; in  such  a manner,  that  he  would  resolve  to  love 
them,  and  dearly  to  embrace  them,  though  he  never 
made  them  partakers  of  his  image,  in  righteousness  and 
true  holiness ; and,  though  they  should  remain  under 
the  power  of  all  their  appetites,  yet  they  should  still 
continue  his  beloved  ones,  and  he  would,  notwith--- 
standing,  bring  them,  at  last,  undoubtedly  into  heaven. 


296  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUHWORTH. 

Which  is  nothing  else  but  to  make  the  God  whom  we 
worship,  the  God  of  the  New  Testament,  an  accepter  of 
persons ; one,  who  encourages  that  in  the  world,  which 
is  diametrically  opposite  to  God’s  own  life  and  being. 

And,  indeed,  nothing  is  more  ordinary  than  to  shape 
monstrous  and  deformed  notions  of  God  to  ourselves ; 
looking  upon  him  through  the  colored  medium  of  our 
own  corrupt  hearts,  and  having  the  eye  of  our  soul 
tinctured  by  the  suffusions  of  our  own  desires.  And 
therefore,  because  we  mortals  can  fondly  love  and  hate, 
and  sometimes  hug  the  vices  of  those  to  whom  our 
affections  are  engaged,  and  kiss  their  very  deformities, — 
we  are  ready  to  shape  out  a deity  like  unto  ourselves, 
and  to  fashion  out  such  a god,  as  will,  in  Christ  at 
least,  hug  the  very  wickedness  of  the  world;  and,  in 
those  that  are  once  his  own, — by  I know  not  what  fond 
affection,  appropriated  to  himself, — connive  at  their 
very  sins,  so  that  they  shall  not  make  the  least  breach 
between  himself  and  them.  Some  there  are,  who  ques- 
tion whether  of  the  two  be  the  w^orse  idolatry,  and  of 
the  deeper  stain,  for  a man  to  make  a god  out  of  a 
piece  of  wood,  and  fall  down  unto  it,  and  worship  it, 
and  say,  deliver  me,  for  thou  art  my  God,” — as  it  is 
expressed  in  the  prophet  Isaiah, — or  to  set  up  such  an 
idol-god  as  this,  of  our  own  imagination,  fashioned 
according  to  the  similitude  of  our  own  fondness  and 
wickedness  : — and,  when  we  should  paint  God  with  the 
liveliest  colors  that  we  can  possibly  borrow  from  any 
created  being,  with  the  purest  perfections  that  we  can 
abstract  from  them, — to  draw  him  thus,  with  the  black 
coal  of  our  own  corrupt  hearts,  and  to  make  the  very 
blots  and  blurs  of  our  own  souls,  constitute  the  letters 
by  which  we  spell  out  his  name.  Thus  do  w^e,  that  are 
children  of  the  night,  make  black  and  ugly  represent- 
ations of  God  unto  ourselves,  as  the  Ethiopians  were 
wont  to  do  ; copying  him  out  according  to  our  own 
likeness,  and  setting  up  unto  ourselves  for  a god,  that 
which  we  love  most  dearly  in  ourselves,  that  is,  our 
appetites  and  passions.  But  there  is  no  such  god  as 
this,  any  where  in  the  world;  but  only  in  some  men’s 
false  imaginations,  who  know  not,  all  this  while,  that 
they  look  upon  themselves  instead  of  God,  and  make 
an  idol  of  themselves,  which  instead  of  him,  they  wor- 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  297 

ship  and  adore  : being  so  full  of  themselves,  that,  what- 
soever they  see  round  about  them,  even  God  himself, 
they  color  with  their  own  tincture ; like  the  person  of 
whom  Aristotle  speaks,  that,  wheresoever  he  went,  and 
whatsoever  he  looked  upon,  still  saw  his  own  face 
represented  to  him,  as  in  a glass.  And,  therefore,  it  is 
no  wonder,  if  men  seem  naturally  more  devoutly  af- 
fected toward  such  an  imaginary  god  as  we  have  now 
described,  than  toward  the  true  real  God,  clothed  with 
his  own  real  attributes  ; since  it  is  nothing  but  an  image 
of  themselves,  with  which.  Narcissus-like,  they  fall  in 
love.  And  no  wonder,  if  they  kiss  and  dandle  such  a 
baby-god  as  this  ; which,  like  little  children,  they  have 
dressed  up  out  of  the  clouts  of  their  own  fond  fancies, 
according  to  their  own  likeness,  on  purpose  that  they 
might  play  and  sport  with  it. 

But,  howsoever  we  paint  and  disfigure  him  here 
below,  God  will  ever  dwell  in  spotless  light ; he  will 
still  be  circled  about  with  his  own  rays  of  unstained 
and  immaculate  glory.  And,  though  the  Gospel  be 
not  God  as  he  is  in  his  own  brightness,  but  God  veiled 
and  masked  to  us,  God  in  a state  of  humiliation  and 
condescent,  as  the  sun  in  a rainbow,  yet  it  is  nothing 
else  but  a clear  and  unspotted  mirror  of  divine  holiness, 
goodness,  purity ; in  which  attributes  lie  the  very  life 
and  essence  of  God  himself.  The  Gospel  is  God  de- 
scending into  the  world  in  our  form,  and  conversing 
with  us  in  our  likeness ; that  he  might  allure  and  draw 
us  up  to  God,  and  make  us  partakers  of  his  divine  form. 
“God  was  therefore  incarnated,  and  made  man,  that  he 
might  deify  us  that  is,  as  Saint  Peter  expresses  it, 
makes  us  “ partakers  of  the  divine  nature.”  Now,  I 
say,  the  very  proper  character,  and  essential  tincture, 
of  God  himself,  is  nothing  else  but  goodness.  Nay,  I 
may  be  bold  to  add,  that  God  is  therefore  God,  because 
he  is  the  highest  and  most  perfect  good  ; and  good  is 
not  therefore  good,  because  God  out  of  an  arbitrary 
will  of  his  would  have  it  so.  Whatsoever  God  doeth 
in  the  world,  he  doeth  it  as  suitable  to  the  highest  good^ 
ness;  the  idea  and  fairest  copy  of  which,  is  his  own 
essence. 


8 e«off  yeyovev  avfipwrrof,  iva  sviavrw  ^eowoirjcfri, — S.  Athanasius, 


298  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

Virtue  and  holiness  in  creatures,  as  Plato  well  dis- 
courses in  his  Euthyphro,  are  not  therefore  good 
because  God  loves  them,  and  will  have  them  to  be 
accounted  such;  but  rather,  God  therefore  loves  them 
because  they  are,  in  themselves,  simply  good.  Some 
of  our  own  authors  go  a little  further  yet;  and  tell  us, 
that  God  does  not  fondly  love  himself,  because  he  is 
himself;  but  therefore  he  loves  himself,  because  he  is 
the  highest  and  most  absolute  goodness.  So  that  if 
there  could  be  any  thing  in  the' world  better  than  God, 
God  would  love  that  better  than  himself : but,  because 
he  is  essentially  the  most  perfect  good,  therefore  he 
cannot  but  love  his  own  goodness,  infinitely  above  all 
other  things.  And  another  mistake,  which  sometimes 
we  make  respecting  God,  is  shaping  him  out  according 
to  the  model  of  ourselves,  when  we  make  him  nothing 
but  a blind,  dark,  inmetuous  self-will,  running  through 
the  world  ; such  as  we  ourselves,  who  have  not  the  bal- 
last of  absolute  goodness  to  poise  and  settle  us,  are 
furiously  actuated  by. 

That  I may,  therefore,  come  nearer  to  the  subject  in 
hand.  God,  who  is  absolute  goodness,  cannot  love  any 
of  his  creatures,  and  take  pleasure  in  them,  without 
bestowing  upon  them  a communication  of  his  goodness 
and  likeness.  God  cannot  make  a Gospel,  to  promise 
men  life  and  happiness  hereafter  without  being  regene- 
rated, and  made  partakers  of  his  holiness.  As  soon 
may  heaven  and  hell  be  reconciled,  and  lovingly  shake 
hands  with  one  another,  as  God  can  be  fondly  indulgent 
to  any  sin,  in  whomsoever  it  be.  As  soon  may  light 
and  darkness  be  espoused  together,  and  midnight  be 
married  to  noon-clay,  as  God  can  be  joined  in  a league 
of  friendship  with  any  wicked  soul. 

The  great  design  of  God  in  the  Gospel,  is  to  clear 
up  this  mist  of  sin  and  corruption,  with  which  we  are 
here  surrounded  ; and  to  bring  up  his  creatures  out  of 
the  shadow  of  death,  to  the  region  of  light  above,  the 
land  of  truth  and  holiness.  The  great  mystery  of  the 
Gospel,  is,  to  establish  in  the  hearts  of  men  a god-like 
frame  and  disposition  of  spirit,  which  consists  in  right- 
eousness and  true  holiness.  And  Christ,  who  is  the 
great  and  mighty  Saviour,  came  into  the  world,  on 
purpose,  not  only  to  save  us  from  fire  and  brimstone. 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  299 

but,  also,  to  save  us  from  our  sins.  Christ  has,  there- 
fore, made  an  expiation  of  our  sins  by  his  death  upon 
the  cross,  that  we,  being  thus  “delivered  out  of  the 
hand  of”  these  “ our”  greatest  “ enemies,  might  serve 
God  without  fear,  in  holiness  and  righteousness  before 
him,  all  the  days  of  our  life.”  This  “ grace  of  God  that 
bringetli  salvation,”  has  therefore  “ appeared  unto  all 
men,”  in  the  Gospel,  that  it  might  “ teach  us  to  deny 
ungodliness,  and  worldly  lusts,  and  that  we  should  live 
soberly,  righteously,  and  godly  in  this  present  world ; 
looking  for  that  blessed  hope,  and  glorious  appearing 
of  the  great  God  and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  who 
gave  himself  for  us,  that  he  might  redeem  us  from  all 
iniquity,  and  purify  to  himself  a peculiar  people,  zeal- 
ous of  good  works.” — “ These  things  I write  unto  you,” 
says  the  apostle,  a little  before  my  text,  “ that  you  sin 
not;”  thus  expressing  the  end  of  the  whole  Gospel, 
which  is,  not  to  cover  sin,  by  spreading  the  purple  robe 
of  Christ’s  death  and  sufferings  over  it,  while  it  still 
remains  in  us,  with  all  its  filth  and  noisomeness  unre- 
moved, but  to  convey  a powerful  and  mighty  spirit  of 
holiness,^'to  cleanse  us  and  free  us  from  it.  And  this  is^ 
a greater  grace  of  God  to  ns,  than  the  former,  which 
still  go  both  together  in  the  Gospel ; first,  the  free 
remission  and  pardon  of  sin  in  the  blood  of  Christ, 
then,  delivering  us  from  the  power  of  sin,  by  the  Spirit 
of  Christ  dwelling  in  our  hearts. 

Christ  came  not  into  the  world  merely  to  cast  a 
mantle  over  us,  and  hide  all  our  filthy  sores  from  God’s 
avenging  eye,  with  his  merits  and  righteousness ; but 
he  came  especially  to  be  a chirurgeon  and  physician  of 
souls,  to  free  us  from  the  filth  and  corruption  of  them  ; 
which  is  more  grievous  and  burthensome,  more  noisome 
to  a true  Christian,  than  the  guilt  of  sin  itself. 

Should  a poor  wretched  and  diseased  creature,  full 
of  sores  and  ulcers,  be  covered  all  over  with  purple,  or 
clothed  with  scarlet,  he  would  take  but  little  content- 
ment in  it,  whilst  his  sores  and  wounds  remain  upon 
him  ; and  he  had  much  rather  be  arrayed  in  rags,  so 
that  he  might  obtain  but  soundness  and  health  within. 
The  Gospel  is  a true  Bethesda,  a pool  of  grace,  where 
such  poor,  lame,  and  infirm  creatures  as  we  are,  upon 
the  moving  of  God’s  Spirit,  may  descend  down,  not 


300  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

only  to  wash  our  skin  and  outside,  but  also  to  be  cured 
of  our  diseases  within.  And,  whatever  the  world  thinks, 
there  is  a powerful  Spirit  that  moves  upon  these  waters, 
the  waters  of  the  Gospel,  spreading  its  gelitle,  healing, 
quickening  wings  over  our  souls.  The  Gospel  is  not 
like  Abana  and  Pharpar,  those  common  rivers  of  Da- 
mascus, that  could  only  cleanse  the  outside  ; it  is  a true 
Jordan,  in  which  such  leprous  Naamans  as  we  all  are, 
“ may  wash  and  be  clean.” — “ Blessed,  indeed,  are 
they,  whose  iniquities  are  forgiven,  and  whose  sins  are 
covered : blessed  is  the  man,  to  whom  the  Lord  will 
not  impute  sin but  yet,  rather  blessed  are  they,  whose 
sins  are  like  a morning  cloud,  and  quite  taken  away 
from  them.  Blessed,  thrice  “ blessed  are  they,  that 
hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness,  for  they  shall  be 
satisfied  : blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall 
see  God.” 

Our  Saviour  Christ  came,  as  John  the  Baptist  tells 
us,  “ with  his  fan  in  his  hand,  that  he  might  thoroughly 
purge  his  floor,  and  gather  his  wheat  into  his  garner : 
but  the  chaff  he  will  burn  up  with  unquenchable  fire.” 
IJe  came,  as  the  prophet Malachi  speaks,  “like  a refiner’s 
fire,  and  like  fuller’s  soap  ; to  sit  as  a refiner  and  purifier 
of  silver,  to  purify  all  the  sons  of  Levi,  and  purge  them 
as  gold  and  silver,  that  they  may  offer  unto  the  Lord  an 
offering  in  righteousness.” 

Christ  came,  not  only  to  write  holiness  to  the  Lord 
upon  Aaron’s  forehead,  and  to  put  his  Urim  and  Thum- 
mim  upon  his  breast-plate,  but,  “ This  is  the  covenant, 
saith  the  Lord,  that  I will  make  with  them  in  those 
days";  I will  put  my  law  in  their  inward  parts,  and  write 
it  in  their  hearts  ; and  I will  be  their  God,  and  they 
shall  be  my  people.”  They  shall  be  all  kings  and 
priests  unto  me.  “ God  sent  his  own  Son,  in  the  like- 
ness of  sinful  flesh,  and  by  a sacrifice  for  sin  condemned 
sin  in  the  flesh  ; that  the  righteousness  of  the  law  might 
be  fulfilled  in  us,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but  after 
the  Spirit.” 

The  first  Adam,  as  the  Scripture  tells  us,  brought  in 
a real  defilement,  which,  like  a noisome  leprosy,  has 
overspread  all  mankind  : and  therefore  the  second  Adam 
must  not  only  fill  the  world  with  a conceit  of  holiness, 
and  mere  imaginary  righteousness, — but  he  must  really 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  301 

convey  such  an  immortal  seed  of  grace  into  the  hearts 
of  believers,  as  may  prevail  still  more  and  more  in  them, 
till  it  have,  at  last,  quite  wrought  out  that  poison  of  the 
serpent. 

Christ,  who  was,  in  fact,  divinity  dwelling  in  a 
tabernacle  of  flesh,  and  God  himself  immediately  actu- 
ating a human  nature,  came  into  the  world  to  kindle 
here  among  men  that  divine  life,  which  is  certainly 
dearer  to  God  than  any  thing  else  whatsoever  in  the 
world  ; and  to  propagate  this  celestial  fire  continually, 
from  one  heart  unto  another,  until  the  end  of  the  world. 
Neither  is  he,  nor  was  he,  ever  absent  from  this  spark 
of  his  divinity  kindled  amongst  men,  wheresoever  it  be, 
though  he  seem,  bodily,  to  be  withdrawn  from  us.  He 
is  the  standing,  constant,  inexhausted  fountain  of  this 
divine  light  and  heat,  that  still  touches  every  soul  that 
is  enlivened  by  it,  with  an  outstretched  ray,  and  freely 
lends  his  beams  and  disperses  his  influence  to  all,  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world  to  the  end  of  it.  “ We  all 
receive  of  his  fulness,  grace  for  grace  as  all  the  stars 
in  heaven  are  said  to  light  their  candles  at  the  sun’s 
flame.  For,  though  his  body  be  withdrawn  from  us, 
yet,  by  the  lively  and  virtual  contact  of  his  Spirit,  he 
is  always  kindling,  cheering,  quickening,  warming,  and 
enlivening  hearts.  Nay,  this  divine  life,  begun  and 
kindled  in  any  heart,  wheresoever  it  be,  is  something 
of  God  in  flesh,  and,  in  a sober  and  qualified  sense,  di- 
vinity incarnate  ; and  all  particular  Christians,  that  are 
really  possessed  of  it,  are  so  many  mystical  Christs. 

And,  God  forbid,  that  God’s  own  life  and  nature, 
here  in  the  world,  should  be  forlorn,  forsaken,  and 
abandoned  of  God  himself.  Certainly,  wherever  it  is, 
though  never  so  little,  like  a sweet,  young,  tender  babe, 
once  born  in  any  heart,  when  it  crieth  unto  God  the 
father  of  it,  with  pitiful  and  bemoaning  looks  imploring 
his  compassion,  it  cannot  choose  but  move  his  fatherly 
bowels,  and  make  them  yearn  and  turn  tow^ard  it,  and 
by  strong  sympathy,  draw  his  compassionate  arm  to 
help  and  relieve  it.  Never  was  any  tender  infant  so 
dear  to  its  human  parent,  as  an  infant  new-born  Christ, 
formed  in  the  heart  of  any  true  believer,  to  God  the 
father  of  it.  Shall  the  children  of  this  world,  the  sons 
of  darkness,  be  moved  with  such  tender  affection  and 
26 


302  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

compassion  toward  the  fruit  of  their  bodies,  their  own 
natural  offspring ; and  shall  God,  the  father  of  lights, 
the  fountain  of  all  goodness,  be  moved  with  no  compas- 
sion toward  his  true  spiritual  offspring,  and  have  no 
regard  to  those  sweet  babes  of  light,  engendered  by  his 
own  beams  in  men^s  hes^rts,  who,  in  their  lovely  coun- 
tenances, bear  the  resemblance  of  his  own  face,  and 
call  him  their  father  ? Shall  he  see  them  lie  fainting, 
and  gasping,  and  dying  here  in  the  world,  for  want  of 
nothing  to  preserve  and  keep  them,  but  an  influence 
from  him  who  first  gave  them  life  and  breath?  No; 
hear  the  language  of  God’s  heart,  hear  the  sounding 
of  his  bowels  toward  them  ; “ Is  it  Ephraim,  my  dear 
son  ? is  it  that  pleasant  child  ? Since  I spake  of  him  I 
do  earnestly  remember  him  ; my  bowels,  my  bowels  are 
troubled  for  him;  I will  surely  have  m^rcy  upon  him, 
saith  the  Lord.”  If  those  expressions  of  goodness  and 
tender  affection,  here,  among  the  creatures,  be  but  drops 
of  that  full  ocean  which  is  in  God,  how  then  can  we 
imagine,  that  this  father  of  our  spirits  should  have  so 
little  regard  to  his  own  dear  offspring, — I do  not  say  to 
our  souls,  but  to  that,  which  is  the  very  life  and  soul  of 
our  souls,  the  life  of  God  in  us, — which  is  nothing  else 
but  God’s  own  self  communicated  to  us,  his  own  Son 
born  in  our  hearts, — as  that  he  should  suffer  it  to  be 
cruelly  murdered  in  its  infancy,  by  our  sins,  and,  like 
young  Hercules,  in  its  very  cradle  to  be  strangled  by 
those  vipers  ? that  he  should  see  him  crucified  by  flesh- 
ly lusts,  nailed  fast  to  the  cross  by  invincible  corrup- 
tions, pierced  and  gored,  on  every  side,  with  the  poi- 
sonous spears  of  the  devil’s  temptations,  and  at  last 
giving  up  the  ghost ; and  yet,  that  his  tender  heart 
should  not  at  all  relent,  nor  be,  all  this  while,  impas- 
sionated  with  so  sad  a spectacle  ? Surely,  we  cannot 
think  he  hath  such  an  adamantine  breast,  such  a flinty 
nature,  as  this  is. 

What  then?  Must  we  say,  that  though  indeed  he  be 
willing,  yet  he  is  not  able,  to  rescue  his  crucified  and 
tormented  Son,  now  bleeding  upon  the  cross  ; to  take 
him  down  from  thence,  and  save  him  ? Then  must  sin 
be  more  powerful  than  God  ; that  weak,  crazy,  and 
sickly  thing,  more  strong  than  the  Rock  of  ages  ; and 
the  devil,  the  prince  of  darkness,  more  mighty  than  the 


SERM.  I.J  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  303 

God  of  light  No,  surely;  there  is  a weakness  and  im- 
potency  in  all  evil,  but  a masculine  strength  and  vigor 
in  all  goodness  ; and  therefore,  doubtless,  the  highest 
good  is  the  strongest  thing  in  the  world.  God’s  power, 
displayed  in  the  world,  is  nothing  but  his  goodness 
strongly  reaching  all  things,  from  height  to  depth,  from 
the  highest  heaven  to  the  lowest  hell ; and  irresistibly 
imparting  itself  to  every  thing,  according  to  those  seve- 
ral degrees  in  which  it  is  capable  of  receiving  the  hea- 
venly visitant. 

Have  the  fiends  of  darkness,  then,  those  poor  forlorn 
spirits  which  are  fettered  and  chained  up  in  the  chains 
of  their  own  wickedness,  any  strength  to  withstand  the 
force  of  infinite  goodness,  which  is  infinite  power?  Or, 
do  they  not  rather  skulk  in  holes  of  darkness,  and  fly, 
like  bats  and  owls,  before  the  approaching  beams  of  this 
Sun  of  Righteousness  ? Is  God  powerful  to  kill  and  to 
destroy,  to  damn  and  to  torment  ? And  is  he  not  pow- 
erful to  save  ? Nay,  it  is  the  sweetest  flower  in  all  the 
garland  of  his  attributes,  it  is  the  richest  diadem  in  his 
crown  of  glory,  that  he  is  mighty  to  save:  and  this  is 
far  more  noble  and  magnificent,  than  to  be  styled  mighty 
to  destroy.  For  that,  except  it  be  in  a way  of  justice, 
speaks  no  power,  but  mere  impotency  ; for  the  root  of 
all  power  is  goodness. 

Or  must  we  say,  lastly,  that  God,  indeed,  when  we 
sigh  and  groan  toward  him,  is  able  to  rescue  us  out  of  the 
power  of  sin  and  Satan,  but  that,  sometimes,  to  exercise 
his  absolute  authority,  his  uncontrollable  dominion,  he 
delights  rather  in  plunging  wretched  souls  down  into 
infernal  night  and  everlasting  darkness  ? What  shall 
we,  then,  make  the  God  of  the  whole  world  ? Nothing 
but  a cruel  and  dreadful  with  curled  fiery 

snakes  about  his  head,  and  firebrands  in  his  hands,  thus 
governing  the  world  ? Surely  this  will  make  us  either 
secretly  to  thijik  that,  if  he  must  needs  be  such,  there 
is  no  God  at  all  in  the  world ; or  else,  to  wish  heartily 
that  there  were  none.  But,  doubtless,  God  will  at  last 
confute  all  these  our  misapprehensions : he  will  unmask 
our  hypocritical  pretences,  and  clearly  cast  the  shame 
of  all  our  sinful  deficiencies  upon  ourselves  ; and  will 
vindicate  his  own  glory,  from  receiving  by  them  the 
least  stain*  or  blemish.  In  the  meantime,  let  us  know 


304  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

that  the  Gospel  now  requires  far  more  of  us,  than  the 
law  ever  did  ; for  it  requires  a new  creature,  a divine 
nature,  Christ  formed  within  us : but  then,  it  bestows 
a quickening  spirit,  an  enlivening  power,  to  enable  us 
to  perform  that  which  is  required  of  us.  Whosoever, 
therefore,  truly  knows  Christ,  the  same  also  keepeth 
Christ’s  commandments.  But  “ he  that  saith,  I know 
him,  and  keepeth  not  his  commandments,  is  a liar,  and 
the  truth  is  not  in  him.” 

I have  now  done  Avith  the  first  part  of  my  discourse, 
concerning  those  observation's,  which  arise  naturally 
from  the  words,  and  ofter  themselves  to  our  acceptance. 
I shall,  in  the  next  place,  proceed  to  make  some  gene- 
ral application  of  them  altogether. 

Now,  therefore,  I beseech  you,  let  us  consider,  whe- 
ther we  know  Christ  indeed  : not  by  our  acquaintance 
with  systems  and  models  of  divinity,  notby  our  skill  in 
books  and  papers,  but  by  our  keeping  Christ’s  com- 
mandments. All  the  books  and  writings  with  wdiich 
we  converse,  can  but  represent  spiritual  objects  to  our 
understandings;  which,  yet,  Ave  can  never  see  in  their 
own  true  figure,  color,  and  proportion,  until  Ave  have  a 
dmne  light  Avithin,  to  irradiate  and  shine  upon  them. 
Though  there  be  never  such  excellent  truths  set  doAvn 
in  words  and  letters,  concerning  Christ  and  his  Gos- 
pel, yet  they  will  be  but  unknoAvn  characters  to  us, 
until  Ave  have  a Avilling  spirit  Avithin  us,  that  can  deci- 
pher them ; until,  by  secret  AA^hispers  in  our  hearts,  the 
same  spirit  Avhich  at  first  indited  them,  become  a com- 
mentary upon  them.  There  are  many  that  understand 
the  Greek  and  HebreAv  of  the  Scripture,  the  original 
languages  in  Avhich  the  text  Avas  Avritten,  Avho  never 
understood  the  language  of  the  Spirit. 

There  is  a flesh  and  a spirit,  a body  and  a soul,  in 
all  the  writings  of  Scripture.  It  is  but  the  flesh  and 
body  of  divine  truths  that  is  printed  upon  paper;  Avhich 
alone,  many  moths  of  books  and  libraries  feed  upon  ; 
many  walking  skeletons  of  knowledge,  who  bury  and 
entomb  truths  in  the  living  sepulchres  of  their  souls, 
and  converse  only  Avith  these ; men,  Avho  never  did  any 
thing  else  but  pick  at  the  mere  bark  and  rind  of  truths, 
and  crack  the  shells  of  them.  But  there  is  a soul  and 
spirit  of  divine  truth,  Avhich  could  never  yet  be  con- 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  305 

gealed  into  ink,  which  could  never  be  blotted  upon 
paper;  which,  by  a secret  traduction  and  conveyance, 
passes  from  one  soul  unto  another,  being  able  to  dwell 
or  lodge  nowhere,  but  in  a spiritual  being,  in  a living 
thing,  because  itself#is  nothing  but  life  and  spirit.  Nei- 
ther can  it,  where  indeed  it  is,  express  itself  sufficiently 
in  words  and  sounds ; it  will  best  declare  and  speak 
itself  in  actions : as  the  old  manner  of  writing  among 
the  Egyptians  was  not  by  words  but  things.  The  life 
of  divine  truths  is  better  expressed  in  actions,  than  in 
words,  because  actions  are  more  living  things  than 
Words.  Words  are  nothing  but  dead  resemblances  and 
pictures  of  those  truths,  which  live  and  breathe  in  ac- 
tions ; and  “ the  kingdom  of  God,”  as  the  apostle 
speaks,  “consisteth  not  in  word,”  but  in  life  and  power. 
‘Sheep  do  not  come  and  bring  their  fodder  to  their  shep- 
herd, and  show  him  how  much  they  eat ; but,  inwardly 
concocting  and  digesting  it,  they  make  it  appear,  by  the 
fleece  which  they  w^ear  upon  their  backs,  and  by  the 
milk  which  they  give.’^  And  lei  not  us  Christians, 
affect  only  to  talk  and  dispute  of  Christ,  and  so  mea- 
sure our  knowledge  of  him  by  our  words ; butjet  us 
show  our  knowledge  concocted  into  our  lives  and  ac- 
tions : and  then  let  us  really  manifest  that  we  are 
Christ’s  sheep  indeed,  that  we  are  his  disciples,  by 
that  fleece  of  holiness  which  we  wear,  and  by  the  fruits 
which  we  daily  yield  in  our  lives  and  conversation  : 
for  “herein,”  saith  Christ,  “is  my  Father,  glorified, 
that  ye  bear  much  fruit ; ^o  shall  ye  be  my  disciples.” 

Let  us  not,  I beseech  you,  judge  of  our  knowing 
Christ,  by  our  ungrounded  persuasions  that  Christ, 
from  all  eternity,  hath  loved  us,  and  given  himself  par- 
ticularly for  us,  without  the  conformity  of  our  lives  to 
Christ’s  commandments,  without  a real  participation 
of  the  image  of  Christ  in  our  hearts.  The  great 
mystery  of  the  Gospel  does  not  lie  in  Christ  without 
us  only  (though  we  must  know,  also,  what  he  has  done 
for  us ;)  but  the  very  pith  and  kernel  of  it,  consists  in 
Christ  inwardly  formed  in  our  hearts. 

Nothing  is  truly  ours,  but  what  lives  in  our  spirits. 
Salvation  itself  cannot  save  us,  as  long  as  it  is  only 

Ta  irpo^arui  ov  ^£povra  roig  iroipsatv,  eiriSeiKvvei  iroerov  s^ay€Vt 

aXXa  rnv  vopvv  spiov  efw  <pepei  Kai  yaXa,— EpictetVS, 


300  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

without  US,  any  more  than  health  can  cure  us  and  make 
us  sound,  when  it  is  not  within  us,  but  somewhere  at  a 
distance  from  us;  any  more  than  arts  and  sciences, 
whilst  they  lie  only  in  books  and  papers  without  us,  can 
make  us  learned.  The  Gospel,  thgugh  it  be  a sovereign 
and  medical  thing  itself,  yet  the  mere  knowing  and 
believing  of  its  history  will  do  us  no  good;  we  can 
receive  no  virtue  from  it,  till  it  be  inwardly  digested 
and  concocted  into  our  souls ; till  it  be  made  ours,  and 
become  a living  thing  in  our  hearts.  The  Gospel,  if  it 
be  only  without  us,  cannot  save  us,  any  more  than  that 
physician’s  bill  could  cure  the  ignorant  patient  of  his 
disease,  who,  when  it  was  commended  to  him,  took  the 
paper  only,  and  put  it  up  in  his  pocket,  but  never  drank 
the  potion  that  was  described  in  it. 

All  that  Christ  did  for  us  in  the  flesh,  when  he  was 
here  upon  earth,  from  his  lying  in  a manger,  when  he 
was  born  in  Bethlehem,  to  his  bleeding  upon  the  cross 
on  Golgotha,  will  not  save  us  from  our  sins,  unless 
Christ  by  his  Spirit  dwell  in  us.  It  will  not  avail  us 
to  believe,  that  he  was  born  of  a virgin,  unless  the  power 
of  the  Most  High  overshadow  our  hearts,  and  beget 
him  there  likewise.  It  will  not  profit  us,  to  believe 
that  he  died  upon  the  cross  for  us,  unless,  by  the  morti- 
fication of  all  our  evil  affections,  we  be  baptized  into 
his  death  ; unless  the  old  man  of  sin  be  crucified  in  our 
hearts.  Christ,  indeed,  has  made  an  expiation  for  our 
sins  upon  his  cross,  and  the  blood  of  Christ  is  the  only 
sovereign  balsam  to  free  us  from  their  guilt.  But  yet, 
besides  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood  of  Christ  upon  us, 
we  must  be  made  partakers  also  of  his  spirit.  Christ 
came  into  the  world,  as  well  to  redeem  us  from  the 
power  and  bondage,  as  to  free  us  from  the  guilt,  of  our 
sins.  “Ye  know,”  says  Saint  John,  “that  he  was 
manifested,  to  take  away  our  sins  : whosoever,  there- 
fore, abideth  in  him,  sinnethnot;  whosoever  sinneth, 
hath  not  seen  nor  known  him.”  Lo,  the  end  of  Christ’s 
coming  into  the  world ! Lo,  a design  worthy  of  God 
manifested  in  the  flesh  ! 

Christ  did  not  take  all  those  pains,  to  lay  aside  his 
robes  of  glory,  and  come  down  hither  into  the  world, 
to  enter  into  a virgin’s  womb,  to  be  born  in  our  human 
shape,  to  be  laid  a poor  crying  infant  in  a manger,  and 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  307 

having  no  form  or  comeliness,  to  take  upon  him  the 
form  of  a servant,  to  undergo  a reproachful  and  igno- 
minious life,  and  at  last  to  be  abandoned  to  a shameful 
death,  a death  upon  the  cross, — he  did  not  do  all  this, 

I say,  merely  to  bring  a notion  into  the  world,  without 
producing  any  real,  substantial  effect ; without  chang- 
ing, mending,  and  reforming  the  world ; so  that  men 
should  still  be  as  wicked,  and  as  much  under  the  power 
of  the  prince  of  darkness,  as  they  were  before,  only, 
they  should  not  be  thought  so  ; so  that  they  should  still 
remain  as  full  of  all  the  filthy  sores  of  sin  and  corrup- 
tion, as  before,  only,  they  should  be  accounted  whole. 
Shall  God  come  down  from  heaven,  and  pitch  a taber- 
nacle amongst  men  ? Shall  he  undertake  such  a vast 
design,  and  make  so  great  a display  of  doing  something, 
which,  when  it  is  all  summed  up,  shall  not,  at  last, 
amount  to  a reality?  Surely  Christ  did  not  undergo 
all  this,  to  so  little  purpose ; he  would  not  take  all  this 
pains  for  us,  that  he  might  be  able,  at  last,  to  put  into 
our  hands  nothing  but  a blank.  No,  surely  : the  end  of 
the  Gospel  is  life  and  perfection ; it  is  a divine  nature ; 
it  is  a godlike  frame  and  disposition  of  spirit ; it  is  to 
make  us  partakers  of  the  image  of  God,  in  righteous- 
ness and  true  holiness;  without  which,  salvation  itself 
were  but  a notion. 

Christ  came  into  the  world  to  make  an  expiation  for 
our  sins;  but  the  end  of  this  was,  that  we  might  eschew 
sin ; that  we  might  forsake  all  ungodliness  and  worldly 
lusts.  The  Gospel  declares  pardon  of  sin,  to  those  that 
are  heavy  laden  with  it,  and  willing  to  be  disburthened  ; 
to  this  end,  that  it  might  quicken  and  enliven  us  to  new 
obedience.  Whereas,  otherwise,  the  guilt  of  sin  might 
have  detained  us  in  horror  and  despair,  and  so  have 
kept  us  still  more  strongly  under  its  power,  in  sad  and 
dismal  apprehensions  of  God’s  wrath,  provoked  against 
us,  and  inevitably  falling  on  us : but  Christ  has  now 
appeared  like  a day-star,  with  most  cheerful  beams ; 
nay,  he  is  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  himself,  who  has 
risen  upon  the  world,  with  his  healing  wings,  with  his 
exhilarating  light,  that  he  might  chase  away  from  us  all 
those  black  despairing  thoughts.  But  Christ  did  not 
rise,  that  we  should  play,  and  sport,  and  wantonize  with 
his  light ; but  that  we  should  do  “ the  work  of  the  day” 


308  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

in  it ; that  we  should  walk,  not  in  our  night-clothes  of 
sinful  deformity,  but  clad  all  over  with  the  comely  gar- 
ments of  light 

Holiness  is  the  best  thing  that  God  himself  can  bestow 
upon  us  ; either  in  this  world,  or  the  world  to  come. 
True  evangelical  holiness,  that  is,  Christ  formed  in 
the  hearts  of  believers,  is  the  very  cream  and  quintes- 
sence of  the  Gospel.  And,  were  our  hearts  sound 
within,  were  there  not  many  thick  and  dark  fumes, 
which  arise  from  thence,  and  cloud  our  understandings, 
we  could  not  easily  conceive  the  substance  of  heaven 
itself  to  be  any  thing  else  but  holiness,  freed  from  those 
incumbrances,  which  ever  clogged  and  accloyed  it 
here ; neither  should  we  wish  for  any  other  heaven 
besides  this.  But  many  of  us  are  like  those  children, 
whose  stomachs  are  so  vitiated  by  some  disease,  that 
they  think  ashes,  coal,  mud-wall,  or  any  such  trash,  more 
pleasant,  than  the  most  wholesome  food.  Such  sickly 
and  distempered  appetites  have  we  about  these  spiritual 
things,  hankering  after  I know  not  what  vain  shows  of 
happiness,  whilst,  in  the  mean  time,  we  neglect  that, 
which  is  the  only  true  food  of  our  souls,  which  is  able 
to  nourish  them  unto  everlasting  life. 

Grace  is  holiness  militant;  holiness,  incumbered  with 
many  enemies  and  difficulties,  which  it  ever  fights 
against,  and  manfully  acquits  itself.  And  glory  is  no- 
thing else  but  holiness  triumphant;  holiness,  with  a 
palm  of  victory  in  her  hand,  and  a crown  upon  her  head. 
‘God  himself  cannot  make  me  happy,  if  he  be  only 
without  me,  and  unless  he  vouchsafe  a participation  of 
himself  and  his  own  likeness,  into  my  soul.’'  Happi- 
ness is  nothing  but  the  releasing  and  unfettering  of  our 
souls  from  all  narrow,  scant,  and  particular  good  things  ; 
and  the  espousing  of  them  to  the  highest  and  most 
universal  good,  which  is  not  this  or  that  particular  good, 
but  goodness  itself:  and  this  is  the  same  thing,  which 
we  call  holiness.  With  which,  because  we  ourselves 
are  so  little  acquainted — for  the  most  part  ever  courting 
its  mere  shadow — therefore,  we  have  such  low,  abject, 
and  beggarly  conceits  of  it ; whereas,  it  is,  in  itself,  the 
most  noble,  heroical,  and  generous  thing  in  the  world. 

i ‘ Deus  ipse,  cum  omni  sua  bonitate,  quatenus  extra  me  est,  non 
facit  me  beatum,  sed  quatenus  in  me  est.’ 


SERM.  I.] 


KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS. 


309 


For  I mean  by  holiness,  nothing  else  but  God  stamped 
and  printed  on  the  soul.  And  we  may  please  ourselves 
with  what  conceits  we  will ; but,  so  long  as  we  are  void 
of  this,  we  do  but  dream  of  heaven,  and  I know  not 
what  fond  paradise ; we  do  but  blow  up  and  down  an 
airy  bubble  of  our  own  fancies,  which  rises  out  of  the 
froth  of  our  vain  hearts ; we  do  but  court  a painted 
heaven,  and  woo  happiness  in  a picture,  whilst,  in  the 
meantime,  a true  and  real  hell  will  absorb  our  souls 
into  it,  and  will  soon  make  us  sensible  of  solid  wo,  and 
substantial  misery. 

Divine  wisdom  has  so  ordered  the  frame  of  the  whole 
universe,  that  every  thing  should  have  a certain  proper 
place,  a fit  receptacle  for  it.  Hell  is  the  sink  of  all  sin 
and  wickedness.  The  strong  magic  of  nature  pulls  and 
draws  every  thing,  continually,  to  that  place  Avhich  is 
suitable  to  it,  and  to  which  it  belongs.  So,  all  heavy 
bodies  press  downward  toward  the  centre  of  our  earth, 
drawn  in  by  its  attraction.  In  like  manner,  hell,  where- 
soever it  is,  will,  by  strong  sympathy,  pull  in  all  sin 
and  magnetically  draw  it  to  itself.  While  true  holi- 
ness is  always  breathing  upward,  and  fluttering  toward 
heaven,  striving  to  embosom  itself  with*  God:  and  it 
will,  at  last,  undoubtedly  be  conjoined  with  him;  no 
dismal  shades  of  darkness  can  possibly  stop  it  in  its 
course,  or  bear  it  back.’^  Nay,  we  do  but  deceive  our- 
selves with  names.  Hell  is  nothing  but  the  orb  of  sin 
and  wickedness,  that  hemisphere  of  darkness  in  which 
all  evil  moves ; and  heaven  is  the  opposite  hemisphere 
of  light,  the  bright  orb  of  truth,  holiness,  and  goodness. 
And,  in  this  life,  we  actually  instate  ourselves  in  the 
possession  of  one  or  other  of  them.  Take  sin  and 
disobedience  out  of  hell,  and  it  will  presently  clear  up 
into  light,  tranquillity,  serenity,  and  shine  out  into  a 
heaven.  Every  true  saint  carries  his  heaven  about  with 
him,  in  his  own  heart;  and  hell,  that  is  without,  can 
have  no  power  over  him.  He  might  safely  wade  through 
hell  itself,  and,  like  the  three  children,  pass  through  the 
midst  of  that  fiery  furnace,  and  yet  not  at  all  be  scorch- 
ed with  its  flames.  He  might  walk  through  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  and  yet  fear  no  evil. 


aui  TodyiOiQv  ayu  cty  to  bjxoiov* 


310  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

Sin  is  the  only  thing  in  the  world,  that  is  contrary  to 
God.  God  is  light,  and  that  is  darkness.  God  is 
beauty,  and  that  is  ugliness  and  deformity.  All  sin  is 
direct  rebellion  against  God  ; and,  with  what  notions 
soever  we  sugar  it,  and  sweeten  it,  yet  God  can  never 
smile  upon  it,  he  will  never  make  a truce  with  it.  God 
declares  open  war  against  sin,  and  bids  defiance  to  it ; 
for  it  is  a professed  enemy  to  God’s  own  life  and  being. 
God,  who  is  infinite  goodness,  cannot  but  hate  sin, 
which  is  purely  evil.  Sin  is,  in  itself,  but  a poor,  im- 
potent, and  crazy  thing ; nothing  but  straitness,  poverty, 
and  nonentity  ; so  that,  of  itself,  it  is  the  most  wretched 
and  miserable  thing  in  the  world,  and  needs  no  further 
punishment,  besides  itself.  Divine  vengeance  beats  it 
off,  still  further  and  further  from  God  ; and,  where- 
soever it  is,  will  be  sure  to  scourge  it  and  lash  it  con- 
tinually. God  and  sin  can  never  agree  together. 

That  I may,  therefore,  yet  come  nearer  to  ourselves — 
this  is  the  message,  which  I have  now  to  declare  unto 
you,  that  “ God  is  light,  and  in  him  is  no  darkness 
at  all : if  we  say,  that  we  have  fellowship  with  him, 
and  walk  in  darkness,  we  lie,  and  do  not  the  truth.” 
Christ  and  the  Gospel  are  light,  and  in  them  there  is 
no  darkness  at  all.  If  you  say,  that  you  know  Christ 
and  his  Gospel,  and  yet  keep  not  Christ’s  command- 
ments, but  dearly  hug  your  private  darling  corruptions, 
you  are  liars,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  you;  you  have  no 
acquaintance  with  the  God  of  light,  nor  the  Gospel  of 
light.  If  any  of  you  say,  that  you  know  Christ,  and 
have  an  interest  in  him,  and  yet,  as  I fear  too  many  do, 
still  nourish  ambition,  pride,  vain-glory,  within  your 
breasts  ; harbor  malice,  revengefulness,  and  cruel  hatred 
to  your  neighbors,  in  your  hearts  ; eagerly  scramble 
after  sordid  pelf,  and  make  the  strength  of  your  parts 
and  endeavors  serve  that  blind  mammon,  the  god  of  this 
world ; if  you  wallow  and  tumble  in  the  filthy  puddle 
of  fleshly  pleasures,  or  if,  in  your  lives,  you  aim  only 
at  selfish  ends,  and  make  interest  the  compass  by  which 
you  sail,  and  the  star  by  which  you  steer  your  course, 
looking  at  nothing  higher  or  more  noble  than  yourselves, 
— if  these  things  be  so,  then  deceive  not  yourselves ; 
you  have  neither  seen  Christ,  nor  know  him  ; you 
are  deeply  incorporated,  if  I may  so  speak,  with  the 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  311 

Spirit  of  this  world ; and  have  no  true  sympathy  with 
God  and  Christ,  no  fellowship  at  all  with  the  Father 
and  the  Son. 

And,  I beseech  you,  let  us  consider : are  there  not 
many  of  us,  who  pretend  much  to  Christ,  that  are 
plainly,  in  our  lives,  as  proud,  ambitious,  vain-glorious, 
as  any  others?  Are  there  not  many  of  us,  as  much 
under  the  power  of  unruly  passions,  as  cruel,  revenge- 
ful, malicious,  censorious  as  others  ? Many,  that  have 
our  minds  as  deeply  engaged  in  the  world,  and  as  much 
envassalled  to  riches,  gain,  profit,  those  great  admired 
deities  of  the  sons  of  men,  and  their  souls  as  much 
overwhelmed  and  sunk,  with  the  cares  of  this  life?  Do 
not  many  of  us,  as  much  give  ourselves  to  the  pleasures 
of  the  flesh,  and,  though  not  without  regrets  of  con- 
science, yet,  every  nowand  then,  secretly  immerse  our- 
selves in  them  ? Are  there  not  many  of  us,  who  have 
as  deep  a share,  likewise,  in  injustice  and  oppression,  in 
vexing  the  fatherless  and  the  widows  ? I wish  it  may  not 
prove  some  of  our  cases,  at  that  last  day,  to  use  such 
pleas  as  these  unto  Christ  in  our  behalf:  ‘Lord,  I have 
prophesied  in  thy  name  ; I have  preached  many  a zealous 
sermon  for  thee  ; I have  kept  many  a long  fast;  I have 
been  very  active  for  thy  cause  in  church,  in  state  ; nay, 
I never  made  any  question,  but  that  my  name  was  written 
in  thy  book  of  life:’ — when  yet,  alas!  we  shall  receive 
no  other  return  from  Christ  but  this:  “I  know  yoq 
not ; depart  from  me,  ye  workers  of  iniquity.”  I am 
sure,  there  are  too  many  of  us,  who  have  long  pretended 
to  Christ,  and  yet,  make  little  or  no  progress  in  true 
Christianity,  that  is,  in  holiness  of  life  ; men  who  ever 
hang  hovering  in  a twilight  of  grace;  who  never  seri- 
ously put  ourselves  forward,  into  clear  day-light,  but 
esteem  that  glimmering  crepuscnlum  which  we  are  in, 
and  like  that  faint  twilight,  better  than  broad,  open, 
meridian  splendor ; whereas,  “ the  path  of  the  just  is 
as  the  shining  light,  that  shineth  more  and  more  unto 
the  perfect  day.”  I am  sure  there  are  many  of  us,  who 
are  perpetual  dwarfs,  in  our  spiritual  stature  ; like  those 
silly  women,  laden  with  sins,  and  led  away  by  strange 
desires,  who  are  “ ever  learning,  and  never  able  to  come 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth;”  who  are  not  now  one 
jot  taller  in  Christianity,  than  we  were  many  years  ago  ; 


312  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

but  have  still  as  sickly,  crazy,  and  unsound  a temper  of 
soul,  as  we  had  long  before. 

Indeed,  we  seem  to  do  something  : we  are  always 
moving  and  lifting  at  the  stone  of  corruption,  which 
lies  upon  our  hearts,  but  yet  we  never  stir  it,  or  at  least 
never  roll  it  oft*  from  us.  We  are  sometimes  a little 
troubled  with  the  guilt  of  our  sins,  and  then,  we  think 
we  must  thrust  our  desires  out  of  our  hearts ; but  after- 
ward, we  sprinkle  ourselves  over  with  I know  not  what 
holy  water,  and  so,  are  contented  to  let  those  desires 
still  abide  quietly  within  us.  We  every  day  truly  con- 
fess the  same  sins,  and  pray  against  them ; and  yet,  we 
still  commit  them  as  much  as  ever,  and  lie  as  deeply 
under  the  power  of  them.  We  have  the  same  water  to 
pump  out,  in  every  prayer ; and  still  we  let  the  same 
leak  in  again  upon  us.  We  make  a great  deal  of  noise, 
and  raise  a great  deal  of  dust  with  our  feet;  but  we  do 
not  move  from  oft*  the  ground,  on  which  we  stood,  we 
do  not  at  all  go  forward.  Or,  if  we  do  sometimes  make 
a little  progress,  we  quickly  lose  again  the  ground  which 
we  had  gained ; like  those  upper  planets  in  the  heaven, 
which,  as  the  astronomers  tell  us,  sometimes  move  for- 
ward, sometimes  quite  backward,  and  sometimes  per- 
fectly stand  still ; have  their  stations  and  retrogradations, 
as  well  as  their  direct  motions.  As  if  religion  were  no- 
thing else  but  a dancing  up  and  down  upon  the  same 
piece  of  ground,  and  making  several  motions  and  frisk- 
ings  on  it;  and  not  a sober  journeying,  and  travelling 
onward  toward  some  certain  place.  We  do  and  undo; 
we  weave  sometimes  a web  of  holiness,  but  then  we  let 
our  passions  come  and  undo  and  unravel  all  again.^ 
Like  Sisyphus  in  the  fable,  we  roll  up  a mighty  stone, 
with  much  ado,  sweating  and  tugging,  up  the  hill ; and 
then  we  let  it  go,  and  tumble  down  again  unto  the 
bottom  ; and  this  is  our  constant  work.  Like  those 
Danaides,  whom  the  poets  speak  of,  we  are  always,  by 
our  prayers,  duties,  and  performances,  filling  water  into 
a sieve,  which  still  runs  out,  as  fast  as  we  pour  it  in. 

What  is  it,  that  thus  cheats  us,  and  gulls  us  of  our 
religion  ? That  makes  us  thus  constantly  tread  the 
same  ring  and  circle  of  duties,  where  we  make  not  any 


1 Penelopes  telam  texere. 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  313 

progress  forward,  and  how  far  soever  we  go,  we  are 
still  never  the  nearer  to  our  journey’s  end  ? What  is 
it,  which  thus  starves  our  religion,  and  makes  it  look 
like  those  kine  in  Pharaoh’s  dream,  ill-favored  and  lean- 
fleshed,  no  color  in  its  face,  no  blood  in  its  veins,  no  life 
nor  heat  in  any  of  its  members  ? What  is  it,  that  thus 
be-dwarfs  us  in  our  Christianity  ? By  what  low,  sordid, 
unworthy  principles  do  we  act,  which  thus  hinder  our 
growth,  and  make  us  stand  at  a stay,  and  keep  us  al- 
ways at  the  very  porch  and  entrance,  where  we  first 
began  ? Is  it  a sleepy,  sluggish  conceit,  that  it  is  enough 
for  us,  if  we  be  but  once  in  a state  of  grace,  if  we  have 
but  once  stepped  over  the  threshold  ; that  we  need  not 
take  so  great  pains,  to  travel  any  farther  ? Or  is  it  an- 
other damping,  choking,  stifling  opinion,  that  Christ 
has  done  all  for  us  already  without  us,  and  nothing 
more  needs  to  be  done  within  us?  No  matter  how 
wicked  we  are  in  ourselves,  for  we  have  holiness  with- 
out us  ; no  matter  how  sickly  and  diseased  our  souls 
are  within,  for  they  have  health  without  them.  Why 
may  we  not  as  well  be  satisfied  and  contented,  to  have 
happiness,  too,  without  us,  to  all  eternity,  and  so  our- 
selves for  ever  continue  miserable  ? “ Little  children, 

let  no  man  deceive  you ; he  that  doeth  righteousness  is 
righteous,  even  as  He  is  righteous  : but  he  that  commit- 
teth  sin,  is  of  the  devil.”  I shall  therefore  exhort  you, 
in  the  wholesome  words  of  Saint  Peter  : “ Give  all  dili- 
gence, to  add  to  your  faith,  virtue  ; and  to  virtue,  know- 
ledge; and  to  knowledge,  temperance  ; and  to  temper- 
ance, patience ; and  to  patience,  godliness : and  to 
godliness,  brotherly-kindness  ; and  to  brotherly-kind- 
ness, charity:  for  if  these  things  be  in  you,  and  abound, 
they  make  you  that  ye  shall  neither  be  barren  nor  un- 
fruitful, in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.” 
The  apostle  still  goes  on,  and  I cannot  leave  him  yet  : 
“ But  he  that  lacketh  these  things  is  blind,  and  cannot 
see  far  off,  and  hath  forgotten,  that  he  was  once  purged 
from  his  old  sins.  Wherefore,  the  rather,  brethren, 
give  diligence  to  make  your  calling  and  election  sure : 
for  if  ye  do  these  things,  ye  shalPnever  fall.”  Let  us 
not  only  talk  and  dispute  of  Christ,  but  let  us  indeed 
“put  oil  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.”  Having  those 
“ great  and  precious  promises,”  which  he  hath  give^^ 
27 


314  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

Hs,  let  US  strive  to  be  made  “ partakers  of  the  divine 
nature,  escaping  the  corruption  that  is  in  the  world 
through  lust and,  being  begotten  again  to  a lively 
hope  of  enjoying  Christ  hereafter,  “ let  us  purify  our- 
selves, even  as  he  is  pure.” 

Let  us  really  declare  that  we  know  Christ,  that  we 
are  his  disciples,  by  our  keeping  his  commandments ; 
and,  among  the  rest,  that  commandment  especially, 
which  our  Saviour  Christ  himself  commends  to  his 
disciples,  in  a peculiar  manner  : “ This  is  my  command- 
ment, that  ye  love  one  another,  as  I have  loved  you 
and  again,  “ These  things  I command  you,  that  ye  love 
one  another.”  Let  us  follow  peace  with  all  men,  and 
holiness,  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord. 
Let  us  put  on,  as  the  elect  of  God,  holy  and  beloved, 
bowels.of  mercies,  kindness,  humbleness  of  mind,  meek- 
ness, long-suffering,  forbearing  one  another,  and  for- 
giving one  another,  if  any  man  have  a quarrel  against 
any,  even  as  Christ  forgave  us  : and  above  all  these 
things,  let  us  put  on  charity,  which  is  the  bond  of  per- 
fectness. Let  us  in  meekness  instruct  those  that  oppose 
themselves,  if  God,  peradventure,  will  give  them  repent- 
ance, to  the  acknowledging  of  the  truth ; that  they 
may  recover  themselv^es  out  of  the  snare  of  the  devil, 
who  are  taken  captive  by  him  at  his  will.  “ Beloved,  let 
us  love  one  another ; for  love  is  of  God,  and  whosoever 
loveth,  is  born  of  God,  and  knoweth  God.” 

Oh  divine  love!  the  sweet  harmony  of  souls!  the 
music  of  angels!  the  joy  of  God’s  own  heart ! the  very 
darling,  of  his  bosom  ! the  source  of  true  happiness  ! the 
pure  quintessence  of  heaven  ! that  which  reconciles  the 
jarring  principles  of  the  world,  and  makes  them  all 
chime  together!  that  which  melts  men’s  hearts  into 
one  another ! See  how  Saint  Paul  describes  it,  and  you 
cannot  choose  but  have  your  affections  enamored  to- 
ward it : “ Love  envieth  not,  is  not  puffed  up,  doth  not 
behave  itself  unseemly,  seeketh  not  her  own,  is  not  easi- 
ly provoked,  thinketh  no  evil,  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity; 
beareth  all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things, 
endureth  all  things.”’  I may  add,  in  a word,  it  is  the 
best-natured  thing,  the  best-complexioned  thing,  in  the 
world.  Let  us  express  this  sweet  harmonious  affection, 
in  these  jarring  times  : that  so,  if  it  be  possible,  we  may 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  315 

tune  the  world  into  better  music.  Especially  in  matters 
of  religion,  let  us  strive  with  all  meekness  to  instruct 
and  convince  one  another.  Let  us  endeavor  to  promote 
the  Gospel  of  peace,  the  dove-like  Gospel,  with  a dove- 
like  spirit.  This  was  the  way,  by  which  the  Gospel  at 
first  was  propagated  in  the  world  : Christ  “ did  not 
cry,  nor  lift  up  his  voice  in  the  streets ; a bruised  reed 
he  did  not  break,  and  the  smoking  flax  he  did  not 
quench and  yet,  “ he  brought  forth  judgment  unto 
victory.”  He  whispered  the  Gospel  to  us,  from  mount 
Sion,  in  a still  voice  ; and  yet  the  sound  thereof  went 
out  quickly,  throughout  all  the  earth.  The  Gospel,  at 
first,  came  down  upon  the  world  gently  and  softly,  like 
the  dew  upon  Gideon’s  fleece  ; and  yet  quickly  penetra- 
ted quite  through  it : and,  doubtless,  this  is  still  the 
most  effectual  way  to  promote  it  further.  Sweetness 
and  ingenuousness  will  more  command  men’s  minds, 
.than  passion,  sourness,  and  severity  ; as  the  soft  pillow 
sooner  breaks  the  flint,  than  the  hardest  marble.  Let 
us  follow  truth  in  love  and  of  the  two,  indeed,  be 
contented  rather  to  miss  conveying  a speculative  truth, 
than  to  part  with  love.  When,  by  the  strength  of  truth, 
we  would  convince  men  of  any  error,  let  us  withal  pour 
the  sweet  balm  of  love  upon  their  heads.  Truth  and 
love  are  the  two  most  powerful  things  in  the  world : 
and,  when  they  both  go  together,  they  cannot  easily  be 
withstood.  The  golden  beams  of  truth,  and  the  silken 
cords  of  love,  twisted  together,  will  draw  men  forward 
with  a sweet  violence,  whether  they  will  or  not. 

^ Let  us  take  heed,  lest  we  sometimes  call  that  zeal  for 
God,  and  his  Gospel,  which  is  nothing  else  but  our  own 
tempestuous  and  stormy  passion.  True  zeal  is  a sweet, 
heavenly,  and  gentle  flame,  which  makes  us  active  for 
God,  but  always  within  the  sphere  of  love.  It  never 
calls  for  fire  from  heaven,  to  consume  those  who  differ 
a little  from  us  in  their  apprehensions.  It  is  like  that 
kind  of  lightning,  which  the  philosophers  speak  of,  that 
melts  the  sword  within,  but  singes  not  the  scabbard  : 
it  strives  to  save  the  soul,  but  hurts  not  the  body.  True 
zeal  is  a loving  thing,  and  makes  us  always  active  to 
edification,  and  not  to  destruction.  If  we  keep  the  fire 


^ A\r)6eveiv  sv  ayair^. 


316 


THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

of  zeal  within  the  chimney,  in  its  own  proper  place,  it 
never  does  any  hurt ; it  only  warms,  quickens,  and  en- 
livens : but  if  once  we  let  it  break  out,  and  catch  hold 
of  the  thatch  of  our  flesh,  and  kindle  our  corrupt  nature, 
and  set  the  house  of  our  body  on  fire,  it  is  no  longer 
zeal,  it  is  no  heavenly  fire,  it  is  a most  destructive  and 
devouring  thing.  True  zeal  is  a soft  and  gentle  flame," 
which  will  not  scorch  one’s  hand  ; it  is  no  predatory  or 
voracious  thing  : but  carnal  and  fleshly  zeal  is  like  the 
spirit  of  gunpowder  set  on  fire,  which  tears  and  blows 
up  all  that  stands  before  it.  True  zeal  is  like  the  vital 
heat  in  us,  that  we  live  upon,  which  we  never  feel  to 
be  angry  or  troublesome  ; but,  though  it  gently  feed 
upon  the  radical  oil  within  us,  that  sweet  balsam  of  our 
natural  moisture,  yet  it  lives  lovingly  with  it,  and  main- 
tains that  by  which  it  is  fed  : but  that  other  furious  and 
distempered  zeal,  is  nothing  else  but  a fever  in  the  soul. 
To  conclude,  we  may  learn  what  kind  of  zeal  it  is  that, 
we  should  make  use  of,  in  promoting  the  Gospel,  by  an 
emblem  of  God’s  own,  given  us  in  the  Scripture  ; those 
fiery  tongues,  which  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  sat  upon 
the  apostles,  which  sure  were  harmless  flames  ; for  we 
cannot  read  that  they  did  any  hurt,  or  that  they  did  so 
much  as  singe  a hair  of  their  heads. 

I will  therefore  shut  up  this  advice,  with  that  of  the 
apostle  : “ Let  us  keep  the  unity  of  the  Spirit,  in  the 
bond  of  peace.”  Let  this  soft  and  silken  knot  of  love, 
tie  our  hearts  together ; though  our  heads  and  appre- 
hensions cannot  meet,  as  indeed  they  never  will,  but  al- 
ways stand  at  some  distance  from  one  another.  Our  zeal,  ^ 
if  it  be  heavenly,  if  it  be  true  vestal  fire  kindled  from 
above,  will  not  delight  to  tarry  here  below,  burning  up 
straw,  and  stubble,  and  such  combustible  things,  and 
sending  up  nothing  but  gross  and  earthy  fumes  to  hea- 
ven ; but  it  wdll  rise  up,  and  return  back,  pure  as  it 
came  down,  and  will  ever  be  striving  to  carry  up  men’s 
hearts  to  God  along  with  it.  It  will  be  occupied  about 
the  promoting  of  those  things  only,  which  are  unques- 
tionably good  ; and,  when  it  moves  in  the  irascible  way, 
it  will  quarrel  with  nothing  but  sin.  Here  let  our  zeal 
busy  and  exercise  itself ; every  one  of  us  beginning  first 


Ignis  lambens. 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  317 

at  our  own  hearts.  Let  us  be  more  zealous  than  ever 
we  have  yet  been,  in  fighting  against  our  inordinate 
desires,  in  pulling  down  these  strong  holds  of  sin  and 
Satan,  in  our  hearts.  Here  let  us  exercise  all  our 
courage  and  resolution,  all  our  manhood  and  magna- 
nimity. 

Let  us  trust  in  the  almighty  arm  of  our  God,  and 
doubt  not  but  he  will  as  well  deliver  us  from  the  power 
of  sin  in  our  hearts,  as  preserve  us  from  the  wrath  to 
come.  Let  us  go  out  against  these  uncircumcised  Phi- 
listines, I mean  our  appetites  and  passions,  not  with 
shield  or  spear,  not  in  any  confidence  of  our  own 
strength,  but  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  hosts ; and 
we  shall  prevail,  we  shall  overcome  : “ for  greater  is 
he  that  is  in  us,  than  he  that  is  in  them.  The  eternal 
God  is  our  refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  everlasting 
arms  ; he  shall  thrust  out  all  enemies  from  before  us  ; 
and  he  shall  say.  Destroy  them.”  We  shall  enter  the 
true  Canaan,  the  good  land  of  promise,  “ that  floweth 
with  milk  and  honey,”  the  land  of  truth  and  holiness. 
“ Wherefore,  take  unto  you  the  whole  armor  of  God, 
that  you  may  be  able  to  withstand.  Let  your  loins  be 
girt  about  with  truth;  have  on  the  breast-plate  of  rights 
eousness ; and  let  your  feet  be  shod  with  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  Gospel  of  peace.  Above  all,  take  the  shield 
of  faith,  whereby  ye  shall  be  able  to  quench  all  the  fiery 
darts  of  the  wicked  ; and  take  the  helmet  of  salvation, 
and  the  sword  of  the  spirit,  which  is  the  word  of  God.” 
And  lastly,  be  sure  of  this,  that  ye  ‘‘be  strong  in  the 
Lord  only,  and  in  the  power  of  his  might.” 

There  are  some,  who  dishearten  us  in  this  spiritual 
warfare,  and  would  make  us  let  our  weapons  fall  out  of 
our  hands,  by  working  in  us  a despair  of  victory.  There 
are  some  evil  spies,  who  weaken  the  hands  and 
hearts  of  the  children  of  Israel,  and  bring  an  ill  report 
upon  that  land,  which  we  are  to  conquer,  telling  of  no- 
thing but  strange  giants,  the  sons  of  Anak,  there,  whom 
we  shall  never  be  able  to  overcome  : “The  Amalekites 
dwell  in  the  south  ; the  Hittites,  Jebusites,  Amorites, 
in  the  mountains  ; and  the  Canaanites  by  the  sea-* 
coast;”  huge  armies  of  tall  invincible  desires:  “We 
shall  never  be  able  to  go  against  this  people we  shall 
27* 


THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

never  be  able  to  prevail  against  our  corruptions.  Heark- 
en not  unto  them,  I beseech  you,  but  hear  what  Caleb 
and  Joshua  say  : “ Let  us  go  up  at  once  and  possess  it, 
for  we  are  able  to  overcome  them not  by  our  own 
strength,  but  by  the  power  of  the  Lord  of  hosts.  There 
are,  indeed,  sons  of  Anak  there  ; there  are  mighty  giant- 
like hosts,  with  whom  we  are  to  grapple  ; nay,  there 
are  principalities  and  powers  too,  that  we  are  to  op- 
pose : but  the  great  Michael,  the  captain  of  the  Lord’s 
host,  is  with  us  ; he  commands  in  chief  for  us,  and  we 
need  not  be  dismayed.  “ Understand  therefore  this  day, 
that  the  Lord  thy  God  is  he  which  goeth  before  thee 
as  a consuming  fire ; he  shall  destroy  these  enemies, 
and  bring  them  down  before  thy  face.”  If  thou  wilt 
be  faithful  to  him,  and  put  thy  trust  in  him,  as  the  fire 
consumeth  the  stubble,  and  as  the  flame  burneth  up  the 
chaff,  so  will  he  destroy  thy  inordinate  desires  : their 
“ root  shall  be  rottenness,  and  their  blossom  shall  go 
up  as  the  dust.” 

But  let  us  take  heed,  that  we  be  not  discouraged,  and, 
before  we  begin  to  fight,  despair  of  victory : for,  to  be- 
lieve and  hope  well  in  the  power  of  our  God,  and  in  his 
strength,  will  be  half  a conquest.  Let  us  not  think  ho- 
liness in  the  hearts  of  men,  here,  in  the  world,  is  a for- 
lorn, forsaken,  and  outcast  thing  from  God,  and  that  he 
hath  no  regard  for  holiness;  wherever  it  is,  though 
never  so  small,  if  it  be  but  hearty  and  sincere,  it  can  no 
more  be  cut  off  and  discontinued  from  God,  than  a sun- 
beam here  upon  earth,  can  be  broken  off  from  its  inter- 
course with  the  sun,  and  be  left  alone  amidst  the  mire 
and  dirt  of  this  world.  The  sun  may  as  well  discard 
its  own  rays,  and  banish  them  from  itself  into  some  re- 
gion of  darkness,  far  remote  from  it,  where  they  shall 
have  no  dependence  upon  it, — as  God  can  forsake  and 
abandon  holiness  in  the  world,  and  leave  it  a poor  or- 
phan thing,  that  shall  have  no  influence  from  him  to 
preserve  and  keep  it.  Holiness,  wherever  it  be,  is 
something  of  God  ; it  is  an  efflux  from  him,  that  always 
hangs  upon  him  and  lives  in  him  : as  the  sun-beams, 
although  they  gild  this  lower  world,  and  spread  their 
golden  wings  over  us,  yet  they  are  not  so  much  here, 
where  they  shine,  as  in  the  sun,  from  whence  they  flow. 
God  cannot  draw  a curtain  between  himself  and  holi- 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  319 

ness,  which  is  nothing  but  the  splendor  and  shining  of 
himself;  he  cannot  hide  his  face  from  it,' he  cannot  de- 
sert it  in  the  world.  He  that  is  born  of  God,  shall 
overcome  the  world,  and  the  prince  of  this  world,  too, 
by  the  power  of  God  in  him.  Holiness  is  no  solitary, 
neglected  thing  ; it  has  stronger  confederacies,  greater 
alliances,  than  sin  and  wickedness.  It  is  in  league  with 
God  and  the  universe  ; the. whole  creation  smiles  upon 
it  : there  is  something  of  God  in  it,  and  therefore  it 
must  needs  be  a victorious  and  triumphant  thing. 

Wickedness  is  a weak,  cowardly,  and  guilty  thing, 
a fearful  and  trembling  shadow.  It  is  the  child  of  ig- 
norance and  darkness  ; it  is  afraid  of  light,  and  cannot 
possibly  withstand  its  power,  nor  endure  the  sight  of  its 
glittering  armor.  It  is  allianced  to  none  but  wretched, 
forlorn,  and  apostate  spirits,  who  do  what  they  can  to 
support  their  own  weak  and  tottering  kingdom  of  dark- 
ness, but  are  only  strong  in  weakness  and  impotency. 
The  whole  polity  and  commonwealth  of  devils,  is  not 
so  powerful  as  one  child  of  light,  one  babe  in  Christ  ; 
they  are  not  able  to  quench  the  least  smoking  flax,  to 
extinguish  one  spark  of  grace.  Darkness  is  not  able  to 
make  resistance  against  light,  but  ever,  as  it  comes, 
flies  before  it.  But  if  wickedness  invite  the  society  of 
devils,  so  that  those  cursed  flends  most  readily  apply 
themselves  to  it,  and  offer  their  service  to  feed  and  en- 
courage it,  because  it  is  their  own  life  and  nature,  their 
own  kingdom  of  darkness,  which  they  strive  to  enlarge, 
and  to  spread  its  dominions, — shall  we  therefore  think, 
that  holiness,  which  is  so  nearly  allied  to  God,  has  no 
good  genius  in  the  world  to  attend  upon  it,  to  help  it, 
and  encourage  it  ? Shall  not  the  kingdom  of  light  be 
as  true  to  its  own  interest,  and  as  vigilant  for  its  self- 
enlargement,  as  the  kingdom  of  darkness  ? Holiness 
is  never  alone  in  the  world  : God  is  always  with  it,  and 
his  loving  spirit  ever  associates  and  joins  itself  to  it. 
He  that  sent  it  into  the  world,  is  with  it,  as  Christ 
speaketh  of  himself:  “ The  Father  hath  not  left  me 
alone,  because  I do  always  those  things  that  please 
him.”  Holiness  is  the  life  of  God,  which,  whereso- 
ever it  is,  he  cannot  but  feed  and  maintain  : and,  as 
devils  are  always  active  to  encourage  evil,  so  we  cannot 
imagine  but  that  the  heavenly  host  of  blessed  angels 


320  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUDWORTH. 

above,  are  busily  employed  in  the  promoting  of  that 
which  they  love  best,  that  which  is  dearest  to  God, 
whom  they  serve, — the  life  and  nature  of  God  in  the 
soul.  “ There  is  joy  in  heaven,  at  the  conversion  of 
one  sinner;”  heaven  gladly  takes  notice  of  it;  there  is 
a choir  of  angels,  that  s,weetly  sings  the  epithalamium 
of  a soul  divorced  from  sin  and  Satan,  and  espoused 
unto  Christ.  What,  therefore,  the  wise  man  speaks 
concerning  wisdom,  I shall  apply  to  holiness  : “ Take 
fast  hold  of  holiness,  let  her  not  go,  keep  her,  for  she 
is  thy  life : keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence,  for  out  of 
it  are  the  issues  of  life,”  and  of  death  too.  Let  no- 
thing be  esteemed  by  thee,  of  greater  consequence  and 
concernment,  than  what  thou  doest  and  actest,  how  thou 
livest.  Nothing  without,  can  make  us  either  happy  or 
miserable  ; nothing  can  either  defile,  or  hurt  us,  but 
what  goes  out  from  us,  what  springs  and  bubbles  up 
out  of  our  own  hearts.  We  have  dreadful  apprehen- 
sions of  the  flames  of  hell  without  us;  we  tremble,  and 
are  afraid,  when  we  hear  of  fire  and  brimstone  ; whilst, 
in  the  meantime,  we  securely  nourish  within  our  own 
hearts  a true  and  living  hell.®  The  dark  fires  of  our 
appetites  and  passions  consumes  our  bowels  within,  and 
miserably  scorches  our  souls  ; and  we  are  not  troubled 
at  it.  We  do  not  perceive  how  hell  steals  upon  us, 
whilst  we  live  here.  And  as  for  heaven,  we  only  gaze 
abroad,  expecting  that  it  should  come  to  us  from  with- 
out, but  never  look  for  the  beginnings  of  it  to  arise 
within,  in  our  own  hearts. 

But,  lest  there  should  yet  haply  remain  any  preju- 
dice against  that,  which  I have  all  this  while  heartily 
commended  to  you,  “ true  holiness,”  and  the  “ keep- 
ing of  Christ’s  commandments,”  as  if  it  were  a legal 
and  a servile  thing,  that  would  subject  us  to  a state  of 
bondage,  I must  here  needs  add  a word  or  two,  either 
for  the  prevention,  or  removal,  of  that  prejudice.  Ido 
not,  therefore,  mean  by  holiness,  the  mere  performance 
of  the  outward  duties  of  religion,  coldly  acted  over  as 
a task  ; nor  our  habitual  prayings,  hearings,  fastings, 
multiplied  one  upon  another,  though  these  be  all  good, 
as  subservient  to  a higher  end ; but  I mean  an  inward 


• Et  c£Eco  carpimur  igni. 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  321 

soul  and  principle  of  divine  life,  which  inspirits  all 
these ; which  enlivens  and  quickens  the  dead  carcase 
of  all  outward  performances  whatsoever.  I do  not  here 
urge  the  “ dead  law  of  outward  works,”  which  indeed, 
if  it  be  alone,  subjects  us  to  a “ state  of  bondage  but 
the  inward  law  of  the  Gospel,  the  “ law  of  the  spirit 
of  life,”  than  which,  nothing  can  be  more  free  and  in- 
genuous : for  it  does  not  act  by  principles  without  us, 
but  is  an  inward  self-moving  principle,  living  in  our 
hearts. 

The  first,  though  it  work  us  into  some  outward  con- 
formity to  God’s  commandments,  and  so  has  a good 
effect  upon  the  world, — yet  we  are  all  this  while  but  like 
dead  instruments  of  music,  that  sound  sweetly  and  har- 
moniously only  when  they  are  struck  and  played  upon 
from  without  by  the  musician’s  hand,  who  has  the  theo- 
ry and  law  of  music  living  within  himself. 

But  the  second,  the  living  law  of  the  Gospel,  the  “law 
of  the  spirit  of  life”  within  us,  is,  as  if  the  soul  of  mu- 
sic should  incorporate  itself  with  the  instrument,  and 
live  in  the  strings,  and  make  them,  of  their  own  accord, 
without  any  touch  or  impulse  from  without,  dance  up 
and  down,  and  warble  out  their  harmonies. 

They  that  are  actuated  only  by  an  outward  law,  are 
but  like  neurospasts,  or  those  little  puppets  that  skip 
nimbly  up  and  down,  and  seem  to  be  full  of  quick  and 
sprightly  motion ; whereas,  they  are,  all  the  while, 
moved  artificially  by  certain  wires  and  strings  from 
without,  and  not  by  any  principle  of  motion  from  them- 
selves within  : or  else,  they  are  like  clocks  and  watches, 
which  go  pretty  regularly  for  a while,  but  are  moved  by 
weights  and  plummets,  or  some  other  artificial  springs, 
which  must  be  every  now  and  then  wound  up,  or  else 
they  cease. 

But  they  who  are  actuated  by  the  new  law  of  the 
Gospel,  by  the  “law  of  the  Spirit,”  have  an  inward 
principle  of  life  in  them,  which  from  its  own  centre 
puts  forth  itself,  fredy  and  constantly,  into  all  obedi- 
ence to  the  will  of  Christ.  This  new  law  of  the  Gos- 
pel, is  a kind  of  musical  soul,  informing  the  dead  organs 
of  our  hearts  ; which  makes  them,  of  their  own  accord, 
delight  to  act  harmoniously,  according  to  the  rule  of 
God’s  word. 


322  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CUBWORTH- 

The  law  of  which  I speak  is  a law  of  love  ; the  most 
powerful  law  in  the  world : and  yet  it  frees  us,  in  a 
manner,  from  all  law  without  us,  because  it  makes  us 
become  a law  unto  ourselves.  The  more  it  prevails  in 
us,  the  more  it  eats  up  and  devours  all  other  laws  with- 
out us  ; just  as  Aaron’s  living  rod  swallowed  up  those 
rods  of  the  magicians,  which  were  made  only  to  coun- 
terfeit a little  life.  Love  is,  at  once,  a freedom  from  all 
law,  a state  of  purest  liberty ; and  yet  a law,  too,  of  the 
most  constraining  and  indispensable  necessity. 

The  worst  law  in  the  world  is  the  “ law  of  sin,  which 
is  in  our  members  which  keeps  us  in  a condition  of 
most  absolute  slavery,  when  we  are  wholly  under  the 
tyrannical  commands  of  our  passions.  This  is  a cruel 
Pharaoh  indeed,  who  sets  his  hard  task-masters  over  us, 
and  makes  us  wretchedly  drudge  in  mire  and  clay. 

The  law  of  the  letter  without  us,  sets  us  in  a con- 
dition of  a little  more  liberty,  by  restraining  us  from 
many  outward  acts  of  sin  ; but  it  does  not  disenthral  us 
from  the  power  of  sin  in  our  hearts. 

But  the  “ law  of  the  spirit  of  life,”  the  Gospel  law  of 
love,  puts  us  into  a condition  of  most  pure  and  perfect 
liberty  ; and  whosoever  really  entertains  this  law,  has 
‘^thrust  out  Hagar”  quite,  he  has  “cast  out  the  bond- 
woman  and  her  children  from  henceforth  Sarah,  the 
free-woman,  shall  live  for  ever  with  him,  and  she  shall 
be  to  him  a mother  of  many  children  ; her  seed  shall  be 
“as  the  sand  of  the  sea-shore  for  number,”  and  “as 
the  stars  of  heaven.”  Here  is  evangelical  liberty,  here 
is  Gospel  freedom,  when  “ the  law  of  the  spirit  of  life, 
in  Christ  Jesus,  hath  made  us  free  from  the  law  of 
sin  and  death  ;”  when  we  have  a liberty  from  sin,  and 
not  a liberty  to  sin  : for  our  Lord  and  Master  hath  told 
us,  that  “whosoever  committeth  sin,  is  the  servant 
of  it.” 

He  that  lies  under  the  power  and  vassalage  of  his  base 
appetites,  and  yet  talks  of  Gospel  freedom,  is  ,but  like 
a poor  condemned  prisoner,  who,  in  his  sleep,  dreams 
of  being  set  at  liberty,  and  of  walking  up  and  down 
wheresoever  he  pleases,  whilst  his  legs  are,  all  the 
while,  locked  fast  in  fetters  and  irons.  To  please  our- 
selves with  a notion  of  Gospel  liberty,  while  we  have 
not  a Gospel  principle  of  holiness  within,  to  free  us 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  ms  COMMANDMENTS.  323 

from  the.  power  of  sin,  is  nothing  else,  but  to  gild  over 
our  bonds  and  fetters,  and  to  fancy  ourselves  the  in- 
mates of  a golden  cage.  There  is  a straitness,  slavery, 
and  narrowness,  in  sin  : sin  crowds  and  crumples  up 
our  souls,  which,  if  they  were  freely  spread  abroad, 
would  be  as  wide  and  as  large  as  the  whole  universe. 

No  man  is  truly  free,  but  he  that  has  his  will  enlar- 
ged, to  the  extent  of  God’s  own  will,  by  loving  whatso- 
ever God  loves,  and  nothing  else.  Such  a one  does 
not  fondly  hug  this  and  that  particular  created  good 
thing,  and  envassal  himself  unto  it  ; but  he  loves  every 
thing  that  is  lovely,  beginning  at  God,  and  descending 
down  to  all  his  creatures,  according  to  the  several  de- 
grees of  perfection  in  them.  He  enjoys  a boundless 
liberty,  and  a boundless  sweetness,  according  to  his 
boundless  love.  He  enclaspeth  the  whole  world  within 
his  outstretched  arms  ; his  soul  is  as  wide  as  the  whole 
universe,  as  large  as  “yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever.” 
Whosoever  is  once  acquainted  with  this  disposition  of 
spirit,  he  never  desires  any  thing  else  ; and  he  loves 
the  life  of  God  in  himself,  dearer  than  his  own  life.  To 
conclude  this,  therefore;  if  we  love  Christ  and  “keep  his 
commandments,  his  commandments  will  not  be  griev- 
ous to  us  ; his  yoke  will  be  easy,  and  his  burthen  light 
it  will  not  put  us  into  a state  of  bondage,  but  of  perfect 
liberty.  For,  that  is  most  true  of  evangelical  obedi- 
ence, which  the  wise  man  speaks  of  wisdom  : “ her 
ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths  are 
peace  : she  is  a tree  of  life  to  those  that  lay  hold  upon 
her  ; and  happy  are  all  they  that  retain  her.” 

I will  now  shut  up  all  with  one  or  two  considera- 
tions to  persuade  you  further  to  the  keeping  of  Christ’s 
commandments. 

First,  from  the  desire  which  we  all  have,  of  knowledge. 
If  we  would  indeed  know^  divine  truths,  the  only  way 
to  come  to  this,  is  by  keeping  Christ’s  command- 
ments. The  grossness  of  our  apprehensions  in  spiritual 
things,  and  the  many  mistakes,  which  we  make  about 
them,  proceed  from  those  dull  and  foggy  steams,  which 
rise  up  from  our  foul  hearts  and  becloud  our  under- 
standings. If  we  but  heartily  complied  with  Christ’s 
commandments,  and  purged  our  hearts  from  all  gross 
and  sensual  affections,  we  should  not  then  look  about 


324  THEY  KNOW  CHRIST,  WHO  [CIJDWORTH. 

for  truth,  wholly  without  ourselves,  and  enslave  our- 
selves to  the  dictates  of  this  and  that  teacher,  and  hang 
upon  the  lips  of  men ; but  we  should  find  the  great 
eternal  God,  inwardly  teaching  our  souls,  and  continu- 
ally instructing  us,  more  and  more,  in  the  mysteries  of 
his  will ; and  from  within  us  “ should  flow  rivers  of 
living  water.”  Nothing  puts  a stop  and  hindrance  to 
the  passage  of  truth  in  the  world,  but  the  carnality  of 
our  hearts,  the  corruption  of  our  lives. 

It  is  not  wrangling  disputes,  and  syllogistical  reason- 
ings, that  are  the  mighty  pillars  which  underprop  truth 
in  the  world  : if  we  would  but  underset  it  with  the  ho- 
liness of  our  hearts  and  lives,  it  should  never  fail.  Truth 
is  a prevailing  and  conquering  thing  ; and  would  quick- 
ly overcome  the  world,  did  not  the  earthiness  of  our 
dispositions,  and  the  darkness  of  our  false  hearts,  hin- 
der it.  Our  Saviour  Christ  bids  the  blind  man  wash 
off  the  clay  that  was  upon  his  eyes,  in  the  pool  of  Silo- 
am,  and  then  he  should  see  clearly ; intimating  this  to 
us,  that  it  is  the  earthiness  of  men’s  affections,  which 
darkens  the  eye  of  their  understandings  in  spiritual 
things.  Truth  is  always  ready  and  near  at  hand,  if 
our  eyes  were  not  closed  up  with  mud,  if  we  could  but 
open  them  to  look  upon  it.  Truth  always  waits  upon 
our  souls,  and  offers  itself  freely  to  us,  as  the  sun  offers 
its  beams  to  every  eye  that  will  but  open,  and  let  them 
shine  in  upon  it.  If  we  could  but  purge  our  hearts 
from  that  filth  and  defilement,  which  hangs  about  them, 
there  would  be  no  doubt  at  all  of  truth’s  prevailing  in 
the  world.  “ For  truth  is  great,  and  stronger  than  all 
things  : all  the  earth  calleth  upon  truth,  and  the  heaven 
blesseth  it ; all  works  tremble  at  it.  The  truth  endu- 
reth,  and  is  always  strong ; it  liveth  and  conquereth  for 
evermore.  She  is  the  strength,  kingdom,  power,  and 
majesty,  of  all  ages.  Blessed  be  the  God  of  truth !” 

Secondly,  if  we  desire  a true  reformation,  as  some 
would  be  thought  to  do  ; let  us  begin  by  reforming  our 
hearts  and  lives,  by  keeping  Christ’s  commandments. 
All  outward  forms  and  models  of  reformation,  though 
they  be  never  so  good  in  their  kind,  yet  they  are  of 
little.worth  to  us  without  this  inward  reformation  of  the 
heart.  Tin,  or  lead,  or  any  baser  metal,  if  it  be  cast 
into  never  so  good  a mould,  and  made  up  into  never  so 


SERM.  I.]  KEEP  HIS  COMMANDMENTS.  325 

elegant  a figure,  yet  it  is  but  tin  or  lead  still ; it  is  the 
same  metal,  that  it  was  before.  If  adulterate  silver, 
with  much  alloy  or  dross,  have  never  so  current  a 
stamp,  yet  it  will  not  pass,  when  the  touchstone  tries 
it.  We  must  be  reformed  within,  with  a spirit  of  fire, 
and  a spirit  of  burning,  to  purge  us  from  the  dross  and 
corruption  of  our  hearts,  and  to  refine  us  as  gold  and 
silver ; and  then,  v{e  shall  be  reformed  truly,  and  not 
before.  When  this  once  comes  to  pass,  then  shall 
Christ  be  set  upon  his  throne  indeed  ; then,  “the  glory 
of  the  Lord  shall  overflow  the  land then,  we  shall 
be  a people  acceptable  unto  him,  and  as  mount  Sion, 
which  he  dearly  loved. 


28 


SERMON  II. 


THE  CHRSITIAN’s  VICTORY,  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND 
DEATH. 


1 Cor.  XV.  57. 

But  thanks  he  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory^  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Christ’s  resurrection,  which  the  apostle  treats  of 
in  the  former  part  of  this  chapter,  is  one  of  the  main  and 
principal  articles  of  our  Christian  faith.  For,  though 
Christ,  by  his  death  upon  the  cross,  made  a propitia- 
tory sacrifice  for  the  world,  yet  it  was  his  resurrection 
only,  which  manifested  his  death  to  be  efiectnal  and 
available  for  that  end,  and  evidenced  it's  acceptance  with 
God.  For,  if  the  grave  had  detained  Christ,  and  held 
him  prisoner,  this  would  have  been  an  argument  that 
the  debt  for  which  he  was  committed  to  that  dark  dun- 
geon, was  not  yet  paid,  nor  satisfaction  made;  for,  “if 
Christ  be  not  raised,  your  faith  is  in  vain,  ye  are  yet 
in  your  sins.”  But  now,  death  and  the  grave  having 
delivered  up  Christ  out  of  their  custody,  his  resur- 
rection is  an  undoubted  argument,  that  they  had  no 
more  to  lay  to  his  charge,  as  he  was  a surety  and 
undertaker  for  mankind ; but  the  debt  which  was  owing 
to  the  law  and  divine  justice,  was,  in  the  court  of  heaven, 
fully  acquitted  and  discharged.  For  “Christ  was  de- 
livered for  our  sins,  and  rose  again  for  our  justification.” 

And,  though  Christ’s  other  miracles  ought  to  have 
conciliated  belief  to  his  doctrine  from  the  Jews  ; yet, 
his  resurrection  from  the  dead  (foretold  by  himself, 
and  really  accomplished)  added  to  all  the  rest,  was  a 
most  undoubted  and  unquestionable  confirmation  of  his 
prophetical  ministry.  For  if  it  were  supposed  (as 
the  Jews  of  old,  and  the  Talmudists  of  later  times, 
maliciously  calumniated  our  Saviour  Christ)  that  a 


327 


SERM.  II.]  the  Christian’s  victory. 

mere  wizard  or  magician  should  have  appeared,  and  not 
only  have  done  many  miracles,  by  Beelzebub  and  the 
powers  of  darkness,  but  also  have  foretold  that  after 
he  had  been  put  to  death  he  should  rise  again,  and  have 
given  this  as  a further  sign  to  confirm  his  prophecy,  as 
our  Saviour  did,^  it  could  never  be  conceived  that 
Divine  Providence  should  suffer  such  an  impostor  mi- 
raculously to  rise  again,  in  so  remarkable  a manner, 
and  so  often  to  appear  before  the  eyes  of  so  many 
spectators,  and  at  last  visibly  to  ascend  up  to  heaven. 
Because  this  would  have  been  an  invincible  temptation 
to  mankind  ; it  being  not  imaginable  what  greater  assur- 
ance than  this  heaven  itself  could  give,  to  confirm  and 
seal  a prophet,  and  persuade  the  world  that  what  he  did 
was  by  the  finger  of  God,  and  not  by  magical  imposture. 
And  therefore,  it  is  observable,  tliat,  though  a good 
while  after  our  Saviour’s  time,  when  the  Jews  had 
forfeited  that  peculiar  Providence  which  watched  over 
them,  a certain  counterfeit  Messias,  one  David  El-Roy, 
was  permitted  to  do  several  strange  and  miraculous 
things  by  magic  and  witchcraft,  if  the  Jewish  relations 
be  true  ; yet,  when  he  gave  this  for  a sign  to  the  Persian 
king,  to  prove  himself  the  Messias,  that  after  he  was 
beheaded  by  him  he  should  rise  again,  he  plainly  dis- 
covered his  imposture,  to  the  great  disappointment  of 
the  deluded  Jews,  who  as  Maimonides  writes, in  vain 
expected  his  resurrection  a good  while  after. 

Moreover,  if  Christ  had  not  risen  again  after  death 
the  world  would  not  have  had  suflicient  ground  to  trust 
and  believe  in  him  as  a Saviour.  Saint  Austin  reckoned 
it  as  great  a miracle  as  any  that  Christ  ever  did  upon 
earth,  that  the  world  should  be  brought  off  to  believe 
in  a crucified  Saviour.  For  to  worship  as  the 

Jews  by  way  of  disgrace  call  our  Saviour,  or  rov 
dvaa'xoXo'TT'i^ojxsvov,  in  Lucian’s  language,  ‘ one  that  was 
hanged,’  for  a God,  and  to  believe  in  him,  could  not 
but  seem  a monstrous  and  prodigious  thing,  both  to 
Jews  and  Gentiles  ; and,  certainly,  it  would  never  have 
been  brought  to  pass,  had  there  not  been  unquestiona- 
ble assurance  given  of  Christ’s  resurrection  from  the 
dead.  For  who  would  be  so  sottish  as  to  believe  in  a dead 


Matt  xii.  39. 


In  Jggereth  Teman, 


328  the  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

Saviour,  and  to  expect  help  and  assistance  from  him, 
that  had  not  been  able  to  help  himself,  and,  therefore, 
had  given  no  proof  that  he  was  able  to  help  others  ? 
Nay,  from  him,  that,  to  all  human  appearance,  had  now 
no  being  at  all?  Upon  which  account  the  Psalmist 
upbraids  the  sottish  Heathen,  that  “they  ate  the  sacri- 
fices of  the  dead.”  Wherefore,  it  is  observable,  in  the 
Gospel,  that  when  Christ  was  now  dead  and  buried  in 
his  sepulchre,  the  hope  and  expectation  of  his  disciples, 
who  had  formerly  believed  in  him  lay,  as  it  were,  en- 
tombed in  the  same  sepulchre  with  him.  . And  then  the 
two  disciples  that  went  to  Emraaus,  could  only  say, 
“We  trusted  that  this  had  been  he  which  should  have 
redeemed  Israel.”  But  afterward,  when  they  were 
able,  upon  good  grounds,  to  affirm  that  the  Lord  was 
risen  indeed,  then  their  faith  revived  anew,  and  mounted 
up  higher  than  ever,  and  grew  triumphant  in  their 
hearts. 

Again,  there  was  another  excellent  design  in  Christ’s 
resurrection  from  the  dead,  which  the  apostle  pursues 
largely  also  in  this  chapter.  Namely,  to  give  the  world 
assurance  of  a life  after  death,  and  of  a blessed  immor-=» 
tality,  to  be  enjoyed  by  all  true  believers  and  followers 
of  Christ.  Christ,  by  his  resurrection,  has  “ abolished 
death,  and  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light,”  as 
the  apostle  speaks,®  or  as  the  Church  sings  in  that 
divine  anthem,  ‘ After  he  had  overcome  the  sharpness 
of  death,  he  opened  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all 
believers.’  The  reasons  of  philosopl^y,  which  prove 
the  soul’s  immortality,  though  firm  and  demonstrative 
in  themselves,  are,  to  vulgar  apprehensions,  so  thin  and 
subtile  that  they  glide  away,  and  leave  no  such  palpable 
impressions  behind  them  as  can  be  able  sufficiently  to 
bear  up  against  that  heavy  weight  of  gross  infidelity, 
which  continually  sinks  down  the  minds  of  men  to  a 
distrust  of  such  high  things,  as  are  above  the  reach  of 
sense.  Neither  are  these  considerations  any  longer  of 
force,  than  men  can  actually  attend  to  the  strength  and 
coherence  of  the  demonstration  ; and,  when  that  actual 
attention,  which  is  operose  and  difficult,  is  taken  off, 
then  the  truth  itself,  like  a spectre  or  apparition, 


• 2 Tim.  i.  10. 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  329 

suddenly  vanishes  away,  and  men  question  with  them- 
selves afterward,  whether  there  were  any  such  thin^, 
or  no.  Such  thin  and  evanid  things  are  philosophical 
speculations  about  the  high  mysteries  of  faith  and  re- 
ligion. But  Christ’s  raising  of  the  self-same  body 
which  was  laid  in  the  sepulchre,  and  afterward  appearing 
in  it  often  to  his  disciples,  gave  such  evident  assurance 
of  the  soul’s  immortality  and  life  after  death,  as  must 
needs  strike  more  strongly  upon  vulgar  minds,  and 
make  more  palpable  impressions  on  them,  and  be  always 
of  more  present  and  ready  use,  than  any  philosophical 
reasons  and  demonstrations. 

And  the  Scripture  is,  in  this  particular,  very  harmo- 
nious, and  agreeable  to  itself;  for,  as  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, it  makes  the  original  of  death’s  entrance  into  the 
world  to  be  the  sin  and  disobedience  of  the  first  Adam, 
who  was  of  the  earth,  earthy;  so,  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment, it  attributes  the  recovery  of  life  and  immortality 
to  the  meritorious  obedience  of  the  second  Adam,  who 
was  the  Lord  from  heaven,  heavenly  ; who,  by  his 
death,  vanquished  and  destroyed  death.  For,  as  Sam- 
son,,who  was  a type  of  our  Saviour,  when  he  was  be- 
sieged by  the  Philistines  in  the  city  of  Gaza,  rose  up  at 
midnight,  and  pulled  up  the  gates  of  the  city,  and  the 
posts,  and  laying  them  upon  his  shoulders,  carried  them 
up  to  the  top  of  the  hill ; in  like  manner,  Christ  our 
Lord,  when  he  was  environed  and  encompassed  by 
death,  after  he  had  been  a while  detained  under  its  cus- 
tody, ascended  victoriously  out  of  the  power  of  the 
grave,  and  carried  the  gates  of  hell  and  death  upon  his 
shoulders,  along  with  him,  triumphantly  into  heaven. 
He  slighted  and  dismantled  that  mighty  garrison,  whose 
walls  were  stronger  than  brass,  and  whose  gates  harder 
than  adamant ; determined,  that  it  should  no  longer  be 
a prison,  with  doors  and  bars  to  shut  up  those  that  be- 
lieve in  Him,  but  an  open  and  free  passage,  and  a broad 
highway  to  life  and  immortality.  He  is  “ the  resur- 
rection and  the  life,”  and  “ he  that  believeth  in  him, 
though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live.”  For,  “ he 
that  liveth,  and  was  dead,  and  is  alive  for  evermore, 
even  he  hath  the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death.” 

But,  that  at  which  I chiefly  aim,  concerning  the  re- 
surrection and  ascension  of  Jesus  into  heaven,  is  this ; 

28* 


330  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

that  by,  and  after  it,  he  was  made  Lord  and  Christ,  King 
and  Saviour  and  Sovereign  of  *his  Church.  Not  that 
Christ’s  humanity  was  not  always  hypostatically  uni- 
ted to  the  divinity ; but  because  the  economical  king- 
dom of  Christ,  as  mediator,  according  to  the  Scripture 
calculation,  seems  not  to  commence  till  after  the  state 
of  humiliation  ; and  so,  begins  its  epocha  from  Christ’s 
resurrection,  or  his  exaltation  to  sit  at  God’s  right  hand 
in  heaven.  “ Let  all  the  house  of  Israel  know  assur- 
edly, that  God  hath  made  that  same  Jesus  whom  ye 
have  crucified,  both  Lord  and  Christ,” — “ Jesus  whom 
ye  slew,  and  hanged  on  a tree,  him  hath  God  exalted 
on  his  right  hand,  to  be  a prince  and  a Saviour.” — 
“ Who  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient  to  the 
death  of  the  cross  ; wherefore  God  hath  highly  exalted 
him,  and  given  him  a name  above  every  name,  that  at 
the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow;  and,  that 
every  tongue  shall  confess,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord, 
to  the  glory  of  God  the  Father.”  And  that  article  of 
our  creed,  concerning  Christ’s  sitting  at  God’s  right 
hand  in  heaven,  signifies  to  us  thus  much  ; that  Christ, 
after  his  resurrection  and  ascension  into  heaven,  hath  all 
power  given  unto  him,  both  in  heaven  and  in  earth,  all 
things  being  made  subject  to  him,  “ excepting  him  only 
that  hath  put  all  things  under  him.”  He  being,  for  the 
comfort  of  his  Church  and  members  here  upon  earth, 
according  to  his  humanity,  made  God’s  vicegerent,  and 
seated  in  his  Father’s  throne  ; and  having  a mediatorial 
kingdom  bestowed  upon  him,  that  shall  continue  “till 
he  hath  put  down  all  authority  and  power,  and  hath  sub- 
dued all  enemies  under  his  feet and  then,  hath  deli- 
vered up  this  economical  kingdom  to  God  the  Father, 
“ that  God  may  be  all  in  all.” 

And  this  is  an  unspeakable  consolation,  which  the 
Christian  religion  afibrds  us  ; and  a most  gracious  con- 
descension of  the  all-wise  God.  That,  forasmuch  as 
we  who  dwell  in  these  houses  of  clay,  are  far  removed 
from  the  pure  and  abstracted  Deity,  and  infinitely  dis- 
proportioned  to  it,  there  should  be  such  a divine  contri- 
vance set  on  foot,  that  we  should  have  one  of  our  own 
flesh  and  blood,  who  was  in  all  things  tempted  like 
unto  us,  and  had  experience  of  all  our  difficulties  and  ca- 
lamities ; who  demonstrated  his  infinite  love,  in  laying 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  331 

down  his  life  for  us,  and  therefore  we  cannot  doubt  that 
he  has  a most  tender  sympathy  and  fellow-feeling  with 
us,  in  all  our  infirmities  ; I say,  that  we  should  have 
such  a one,  exalted  to  God’s  right  hand,  and  invested 
with  all  authority  and  power,  both  in  heaven  and  earth, 
that  he  might  administer  all  things  for  the  good  of  his 
Church  and  members,  and  supply  them  in  all  their 
wants  and  necessities.  Which  consideration  must  needs 
be  far  more  comfortable,  cheering,  and  reviving,  to  every 
true  Christian,  than  it  was  to  the  sons  of  Jacob  when 
they  went  down  to  Egypt  to  buy  corn  and  provision 
for  their  necessities,  to  think  that  Joseph  their  brother 
was  made  lord  of  all  the  land. 

But  this  is  wholly  eluded  and  evacuated  by  those  high- 
flown  spiritualists  of  these  latter  times,  who  slight  and 
reject  the  letter  of  the  New  Testament,  as  a mean  and 
carnal  thing  ; and  will  acknowledge  no  other  death  and 
resurrection  of  Christ  ; no  otlier  ascension  and  sitting 
at  God’s  right  hand  ; nay,  no  other  day  of  judgment, 
nor  resurrection  of  the  body,  but  what  is  mystical  and 
allegorical.  Thus,  they  not  only  imprudently  slur  the 
Gospel,  according  to  the  history  and  the  letter,  in 
making  it  no  better  than  a romantic  legend,  or  a mere 
iEsopic  fable,  that  contains  a good  moraP  under  it ; 
but  also  plainly  defeat  the  counsel  of  God,  against 
themselves  and  mankind,  by  antiquating  Christianity, 
and  by  introducing  in  its  room  old  Paganism  again,  dis- 
guised under  a few  canting  phrases  of  Scripture  lan- 
guage. For,  though  Moses  had  a veil  over  his  face  ; 
though  there  were  many  obscure  umbrages  and  allego- 
ries in  the  law,  (the  children  of  Israel  being  then  not' 
able  to  bear  the  brightness  of  that  evangelical  truth  that 
shone  under  them;)  yet  now,  under  the  Gospel,  “we 
do  all,  with  open  face,  behold  as  in  a glass,  the  glory  of 
the  Lord”  nakedly  represented  to  us,  being  “ changed 
into  the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory.” 

But,  to  let  these  pass,  and  still  to  improve  our  former 
meditation  further;  let  us,  in  the  next  place,  consider, 
that  Christ,  who  received  all  this  power  after  his  resur- 
rection and  ascension,  did  not  receive  it  in  vain  and  to 
no  purpose  ; either  taking  no  notice  of  our  human  trans- 


A Krrifxvdiov. 


332  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

actions  here  below,  as  having  removed  his  pavilion  too 
far  from  us,  into  those  regions  of  light  and  glory  ; or 
else,  remaining  an  idle  spectator,  and  not  concerning  or 
interesting  himself,  in  the  issues  of  our  human  affairs. 
Which  will  be  so  much  the  more  improbable,  if  we  con- 
sider what  the  Scripture  and  experience  tells  us  ; that 
the  devil  and  apostate  spirits  are  perpetually  active  and 
busy,  in  promoting  the  concernments  of  the  kingdom  of 
darkness.  And  therefore,  doubtless,  he,  whom  God 
hath  made  the  shepherd  and  bishop  of  our  souls,  can 
never  be  so  regardless  of  his  office,  nor  so  careless  of 
his  flock  and  tender  lambs  committed  to  his  charge,  as 
to  suffer  those  cruel  wolves  to  prey  upon  them  at  plea- 
sure ; and  to  have  no  pity  at  all  for  them,  nor  to  extend 
his  watchful  providence  over  them,  whom  once  he 
vouchsafed  to  redeem  with  his  own  precious  blood.  No, 
certainly  ; he,  who  waded  through  so  many  difficulties 
and  agonies  for  us,  in  the  days  of  his  flesh  ; he,  who 
“bore  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows  he,  who 
was  “ wounded  for  our  transgressions,  and  bruised  for 
our  iniquities  who  did  sweat  drops  of  blood  in  the 
garden,  and  was  nailed  to  the  cross  for  us  in  Golgotha  ; 
he  cannot  so  easily  forget  those,  whom  he  has  so  dearly 
bought,  nor  suffer  all  that  power  with  which,  for  the 
good  of  his  church,  God  has  invested  him,  to  lie  by 
him  idle  and  unemployed. 

But,  to  the  end  that  there  might  not  be  the  least 
ofround  of  suspicion  or  distrust  concerning  this  particu- 
lar, left  in  the  minds  of  men,  Christ,  after  his  ascen- 
sion into  heaven,  gave  us  a sensible  demonstration, 
both  of  his  kingly  power  and  of  his  watchful  care  and 
providence  over  his  Church,  that  he  would  not  leave 
them  orphans,  and  destitute  of  all  assistance, — by  send- 
ing down  his  Holy  Spirit  upon  his  disciples,  on  the 
day  of  Pentecost,  in  a visible  and  miraculous  manner : 
“ This  Jesus  hath  God  raised  up,  of  which  we  are  all 
witnesses  : therefore,  being  by  the  right  hand  of  God  ex- 
alted, and  having  received  of  the  Father  the  promise  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  he  hath  shed  forth  this,  which  you  now 
see  and  hear.”  And  verily,  if  there  had  been  no  news 
heard  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Christ,  after  he  ascend- 
ed above  the  clouds  out  of  his  disciples’  sight ; no  real 
and  visible  demonstration  of  his  existence,  power,  and 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  333 

providence  over  his  Church ; — the  distrustful  hearts  of 
men  would  have  been  too  prone  to  suspect,  that  the  pre- 
tence of  an  invisible  kingdom  at  God’s  right  hand  above, 
had  been  no  better  than  a mere  dream,  an  airy  and  fan- 
tastic notion  ; and  they  would  have  been  too  ready  to 
have  called  in  question  the  truth  of  all  his  other  mira- 
cles, his  resurrection  and  ascension,  witnessed  only  by 
his  own  disciples  ; and  to  have  surmised,  that  those 
several  apparitions  of  his,  which  we  read  of  after  his 
death,  had  been  nothing  else  but  spectres,  or  phantasms, 
like  the  vulgarly  believed  apparitions  of  the  ghosts  of 
men  in  airy  bodies.  But  the  sensible  and  miraculous 
pouring  out  of  the  Holy  Ghost  upon  his  disciples,  after 
his  ascension  into  heaven,  was  a palpable  confirmation 
of  all  Christ’s  other  miracles,  of  the  validity  of  his 
meritorious  death  and  passion,  of  the  truth  of  his  re- 
surrection and  ascension  ; and  gives  most  comfortable 
assurance  to  all  believers,  to  the  world’s  end,  that, 
though  his  bodily  presence  be  withdrawn  from  thein, 
yet  he  has  not  left  his  Church  utterly  forlorn,  and  desti- 
tute of  all  assistance ; but  that  his  Spirit,  the  holy 
Comforter,  continues  to  be  present  amongst  them,  as  his 
vicegerent,  to  assist  them  for  all  the  holy  purposes  of 
the  Gospel,  to  the  world’s  end.  Now,  the  principal  ef- 
fects of  Christ’s  Holy  Spirit,  which  are  to  be  hoped 
for  and  expected  by  every  true  believer  and  private 
Christian,  are  comprised  by  the  apostle  under  thiee 
heads,  here  in  the  text,  as  consisting  in  a threefold  vic- 
tory, over  a threefold  enemy.  “ The  sting  of  death  is 
sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law  : but  thanks  be  to 
God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ 

1.  A victory  over  sin,  as  that  which  is  the  cause  of 
death. 

2.  A victory  over  the  law,  as  that  which  aggravates 
the  guilt,  and  exasperates  the  power  of  sin. 

3.  Lastly,  A victory  over  death,  the  fruit  and  conse- 
quence of  sin. 

First,  therefore.  There  is  a victory  over  sin,  to  be 
obtained  in  and  through  Christ. 

Some  there  are,  who  will  acknowledge  no  other 
victory  over  sin,  but  an  external  one ; that,  by  which  it 
was  conquered  for  us,  sixteen  hundred  years  since,  by 


334  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

Christ  upon  the  cross;  where  he  “spoiled  principali- 
ties and  powers,  and  made  a show  of  them  openly, 
triumphing  over  them  in  it,”®  and  where  he  “redeemed 
us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a curse  for 
us.”f  And,  donbtless,  this  was  one  great  end  of 
Christ’s  coming  into  the  world,  to  make  a propitiatory 
sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  mankind  : not  only  that  he 
might  thereby  put  a period  to  those  continually  repeated 
and  ineffectual  sacrifices  of  brute  beasts,  and  the  offer- 
ing of  the  blood  of  bulls  and  goats,  which  could  not 
take  away  sin,  nor  propitiate  his  divine  majesty  ; but 
also  that  he  might  at  once  give  a sensible  demonstration, 
both  of  God’s  high  displeasure  against  sin,  and  of  his 
placableness  and  reconcileableness  to  sinners  returning 
to  obedience  ; and  therefore,  to  that  end,  that  the  de- 
spair of  pardon  might  not  hinder  any  from  repentance 
and  amendment  of  life,  he  promulgated  free  pardon 
and  remission  of  sins,  through  his  blood,  to  all  those 
who  should  repent  and  believe  the  Gospel. 

But  it  is  a very  unsound  and  unwholesome  interpret- 
ation of  this  salutary  undertaking  of  Christ  in  the 
Gospel,  that  its  ultimate  end  was  to  procure  remission 
of  sin,  and  exemption  from  punishment  only,  to  some 
particular  persons  still  continuing  under  the  power  of 
sin,  and  to  save  them,  at  last,  in  their  sins,  that  is,  with 
a mere  outward  and  carnal  salvation ; it  being  a thing 
utterly  impossible,  that  those  undefiled  rewards  of  the 
heavenly  kingdom  should  be  received  and  enjoyed  by 
nen  in  their  unregenerate  and  unrei:vewed  nature. 

For  what  is  this  else,  but  to  make  Christ  the  grand 
patron  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness ; and  to  suppose 
that  God  may  be  bribed  and  corrupted,  by  sacrifice  and 
intercession,  to  a partial  connivance  and  fond  indulgence 
of  men  in  their  sins,  to  all  eternity  ? Or  else,  to  insinu- 
ate that  there  is  no  other  evil  at  all  in  sin,  but  in 
respect  only  of  that  outward  punishment  consequent 
upon  it?  Which  is  to  destroy  the  nature  and  reality  of 
sin,  and  to  make  it  nothing  but  a mere  name  or  fancy; 
as  if  good  and  evil,  just  and  unjust,  had  ho  reality  in 
nature,  but  depended  only  upon  arbitrary  laws,  enforced 
by  outward  punishments,  or  mere  opinions  ; and  so 


• Col.  ii.  15. 


fGal.  iU.  13. 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAWj  AND  DEATH.  335 

were  mere  factitious,  or  else  fictitious  and  imaginary 
things.  If  either  of  which  opinions  were  true^  then 
indeed,  rernission  of  sin,  and  exemption  from  punish* 
ment,  would  quite  take  away  all  the  evil  of  sin. 

But,  if  sin  be  not  a mere  name  or  fancy ; if  it  have 
in  it  a real  and  intrinsical  evil,  greater  than  that  of 
outward  punishment,  then,  certainly,  it  cannot  be  so 
transcendent  a happiness,  as  some  men  carnally  conceit, 
to  have  an  impunity  in  sinning  to  all  eternity ; and  the 
effecting  of  this*  impunity  should  not  be  thought  the 
only  fit  undertaking  for  the  Son  of  God  to  engage  in,  the 
only  one  which  would  deservedly  entitle  him  the  Sa- 
viour of  mankind.  For  that  of  Socrates  in  Plato  must 
needs  be  true,^  that,  in  those  who  are  not  incorrigible 
and  incurable,  it  is  the  greatest  evil  that  can  possibly 
befal  them,  to  continue  in  wickedness  unpunished  ; and 
the  greatest  kindness  which  they  can  receive,  by  the 
lesser  evil  of  punishment  and  castigation,  to  be  cured 
of  the  greater  evil  of  sin.  For,  as  the  same  philoso- 
pher speaks,  chastisement  and  correction  is  the  natural 
remedy  and  cure  of  wickedness  which  our  Saviour 
confirms,  when  he  said,  “As  many  as  I love,  I rebuke 
and  chasten;”  and  surely  the  remedy  is  not  w^orse  than 
the  disease. 

Wherefore,  it  was  so  far  from  being  the  ultimate  end 
of  Christ’s  undertaking,  to  die  for  sin  that  men  might 
securely  live  in  it,  that,  on  the  contrary,  the  death  of 
Christ  w^as  particularly  intended  as  an  engine  to  batter 
down  the  kingdom  of  sin  and  Satan,  and  to  bring  men 
effectually  to  God  and  righteousness,  as  the  Scripture 
plainly  witnesses  : “ His  own  self  bare  our  sins,  in  his 
body,  on  the  tree,  that  we,  being  dead  to  sin,  might  live 
to  righteousness.”*  The  death  of  Christ  conducing 
to  this  great  end,  not  only  as  it  was  exemplary,  and 
hieroglyphically  instructed  us  that  we  ought  to  take  up 
the  cross  likewise,  and  follow  our  crucified  Lord  and 
Saviour,  suffering  in  the  flesh,  and  ceasing  from  sin  ; 
but  also,  as,  in  a most  lively  manner,  it  demonstrates 
God’s  high  displeasure  against  sin,  and  its  malignant 
nature  ; which  could  not  otherwise  be  expiated,  than 


6 Tov  aSiKOVvra  firj  SiSovat  6iKr/v,  travrwv  fjLcyiarov  rz  Kai  irpcorov  kukcov 
ZLvai,  h larpiKri  tyjs  novripias  diKrj,  i 1 Pet.  ii.  24. 


336  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

by  the  blood  of  that  innocent  and  immaculate  Lamb, 
the  only-begotten  Son  of  God  : and,  lastly,  as  the  hope 
of  pardon  and  free  remission  of  sin,  in  the  blood  of 
Christ,  for  the  truly  penitent,  might  invite  and  animate 
men  to  cheerful  and  vigorous  endeavors  against  sin. 

Others  there  are,  who  tell  us  that  there  is  indeed 
something  further  aimed  at  in  the  Gospel,  than  the  bare 
remission  of  sins ; that  it  is,  however,  nothing  else, 
but  the  imputation  of  an  external  righteousness,  or 
another’s  inherent  holiness,  which  is  made  ours,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  as  completely  as  if  we  ourselves 
had  been  really  and  perfectly  righteous  ; and  this,  upon 
no  other  condition  or  qualification  required,  except  that 
simply  of  mere  faith,  scrupulously  prescinded  from  all 
holiness  and  sanctification.  A laying  hold  or  appre- 
hending only,  as  they  use  to  phrase  it,  of  this  external 
and  imputed  righteousness  ; that  is,  the  merely  believing 
and  imagining  it  to  be  ours : which  kind  of  faith,  there- 
fore, is  but  the  imagination  of  an  imagination ; or  of 
that,  which  really  is  not;  and,  as  Pindar  calls  man,  the 
very  dream  of  a shadow.*^ 

For,  though  this  be  pretended  by  some,  to  be  spoken 
only  of  justification,  as  contradistinct  from  sanctifica- 
tion, the  latter  of  which  they  conceive  must  by  no  means 
have  any  conditional  influence  upon  the  former, — yet  it 
will  unavoidably  extend  to  the  taking  away  of  the 
necessity  of  inherent  righteousness  and  holiness,  and  all 
obligation  to  it : upon  which  very  account  it  is  so  highly 
acceptable,  because,  under  a specious  show  of  modesty 
and  humility,  it  exceedingly  gratifies  men’s  hypocrisy 
and  carnality.  For  he  that  is  thus  completely  justified^ 
by  the  imputation  of  a mere  external  righteousness, 
must  needs  have,  ipso  facto,  a right  and  title,  by  that 
imputation,  to  heaven  and  happiness,  without  holiness  ; 
for  “ whom  he  justifieth,  them  he  also  glorifieth.”  Nei- 
ther can  any  thing  be  required  inherently  in  them, 
where  all  inherency  is  perfectly  supplied  by  imputation. 
And,  though  it  be  pretended,  that  sanctification  will 
spontaneously  follow  after,  by  way  of  gratitude,-yet  this 
is  likely  to  prove  but  a very  slippery  hold,  where  it  is 


k Xfciaj  ovap. 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  337 

believed,  that  gratitude  itself,  as  well  as  all  other  graces, 
is  already  in  them  by  imputation.  Neither  can  it  be 
reasonably  thought,  that  true  holiness  should  spring  by 
way  of  gratitude  or  ingenuousness,  from  such  a princi- 
ple of  carnality,  as  makes  men  so  well  contented  with 
a mere  imaginary  righteousness. 

But  this  opinion,  as  it  makes  God,  in  justifying,  to 
pronounce  a false  sentence,  and  to  conceive  of  things 
otherwise  than  they  are,  and  to  do  that  which  himself 
hath  declared  to  be  abominable,  to  justify  the  wicked, 
in  a forensic  sense  ; and  as  it  is  irreconcilable  to  those 
many  passages  of  Scripture,  which  assure  us  that  God 
will  render  to  every  man  according  to  his  works  ; so,  it 
also  takes  away  the  necessity  of  Christ’s  meritorious 
and  propitiatory  sacrifice,  for  the  remission  of  sins  : for, 
where  a complete  righteousness  is  imputed,  there  is  no 
sin  at  all  to  be  pardoned.  And,  lastly,  it  vainly  sup- 
poses righteousness  and  holiness  to  be  mere  fantastical 
and  imaginary  things  ; for,  otherwise,  it  were  no  more 
possible,  that  a wicked  man  should  be  made  righteous 
by  another’s  righteousness  imputed,  than  that  a sick 
man  should  be  made  whole,  by  another’s  imputed  health. 
“If  a brother  or  sister  be  naked  and  destitute  of  daily^ 
food,  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them.  Depart  in  peace, 
be  you  warmed,  and  be  you  filled  ; notwithstanding  you 
give  them  not  those  things,  which  are  needful  for  the 
body  ; what  doth  it  profit  ? Even  so,  what  doth  it  profit, 
my  brethren,  if  a man  say  he  hath  faith  [or  imputed 
righteousness],  and  have  not  works  ? [that  is,  real  and 
inherent  righteousness,  or  inward  renovation]  can 
such  a faith  [that  is,  imagination  or  imputation]  save 
him  ?”  Certainly,  no  more  than  mere  words  can  clothe 
a naked  man’s  back,  or  feed  a hungry  man’s  belly,  or 
warm  and  thaw  him  whose  blood  is  frozen  and  congeal- 
ed in  his  veins.  Nay,  it  is  no  more  possible  for  a man 
to  be  made  holy,  than  to  be  made  happy,  by  mere  impu- 
tation, which  latter,  few  men  would  be  contented  with  ; 
and,  were  it  not  for  their  hypocrisy,  they  would  be  as 
little  contented  with  the  former  ; and  it  would  as  little 
please  them,  to  be  just  only  in  opinion,  as  happy  only 
in  opinion,  to  use  Tully’s  expression  against  the  Epi- 

1 Opinione  tantum  justi : opinione  tantum  beati. 

29 


338  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

cureans.  Nay,  since  it  is  most  certain,  that  the  greatest 
part  of  our  happiness  consists  in  righteousness  and  ho- 
liness, it  will  unavoidably  follow,  that,  if  we  have  no 
other  than  an  imputative  righteousness,  we  can  have  no 
other  than  an  imputative  happiness  ; a mere  imaginary 
heaven,  which  will  little  please  us,  when  we  feel  our- 
selves to  be  in  a true  and  real  hell. 

But  it  is  not  our  intention  here,  to  quarrel  about  words 
and  phrases,  as  if  Christ’s  meritorious  satisfaction 
might  not  be  said  to  be  imputed  to  those  that  repent 
and  believe  the  Gospel  for  remission  of  sins  ; much  less 
to  deny,  what  the  holy  Scripture  plainly  asserts,  that 
true  and  living  faith,  which  worketh  by  love,  which  is 
the  very  essence  of  the  new  creature,  or  renewed  na- 
ture, is  imputed,  or  accounted  for  righteousness,  under 
the  Gospel  dispensation ; where  God  will  proceed,  not 
according  to  legal  rigor  and  severity,  with  his  fallen 
creatures,  but  according  to  that  equity  and  ^E^jfisixsia, 
which  the  philosopher  tells  us  is  the  truest  justice.  But 
our  only  design  is,  to  caution  against  that  Antinomian 
error,  which  is  too  often  insinuated,  under  the  notion  of 
imputed  righteousness  : as  if  there  were  no  necessity 
of  inherent  righteousness,  and  a real  victory  over  sin, 
in  order  to  salvation,  but  that  an  imputed  or  imaginary 
one  might  serve  the  turn.  Which  error  springing  up 
very  early  amongst  the  Gnostic  Christians,  Saint  John 
gives  a very  seasonable  antidote  against  it : “ Little 
children,  let  no  man  deceive  you  ; he  that  doeth  right- 
eousness, is  righteous,  even  as  He  is  righteous  and, 
“ He  that  saith,  I know  him,  and  keepeth  not  his  com- 
mandments, is  a liar,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  him.”  To 
which  purpose,  is  that  also  in  his  first  chapter  : “ This 
is  the  message  which  we  have  heard  of  him,  and  declare 
to  you,  that  God  is  light,  and  in  him  is  no  darkness  at 
all.  If  we  say  that  we  have  fellowship  with  him,  and 
walk  in  darkness,  we  lie,  and  do  not  the  truth  : but,  if 
we  walk  in  the  light,  as  he  is  in  the  light,  we  have  fel- 
lowship one  with  another,  and  the  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ  his  Son  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin.”  Wherefore 
the  same  apostle  tells  us  of  overcoming  the  wicked 
one,  and  of  overcoming  the  world,  by  our  faith  in 
Christ.  And  in  the  Apocalypse  he  propounds,  from 
Christ  himself,  divers  remarkable  promises  to  him  that 


339 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH. 

overcometh  : “ That  he  shall  eat  of  the  tree  of  life  which 
is  in  the  midst  of  the  paradise  of  God  : That  he  shall 
not  be  hurt  of  the  second  death  : That  he  shall  have 
the  hidden  manna,  and  a white  stone  with  a new  name 
written  in  it,  which  no  man  knoweth,  save  he  that  re- 
ceiveth  it : That  he  will  give  him  the  morning-star : 
That  he  shall  be  clothed  in  white  raiment,  and  his  name 
shall  not  be  blotted  out  of  the  book  of  life ; That  he 
shall  be  a pillar  in  the  temple  of  God  : and.  That  he 
shall  sit  with  Christ  in  his  throne,  as  he  overcame,  and 
sat  down  with  his  Father  in  his  throne.”  The  condi- 
tion of  all  which  promises  being  “ overcoming,”  we 
may  well  conclude  from  thence,  that  there  is  a real,  and 
not  an  imaginary  victory  only,  to  be  obtained  over  the 
power  of  sin,  as  well  as  the  guilt  of  it. 

Nay,  it  is  true,  and  very  observable,  that  those  places 
which  are  usually  quoted  as  the  foundation  of  an  imput- 
ed righteousness,  in  some  other  sense  than  that  which 
we  before  mentioned,  are  indeed,  no  otherwise  to  be  un- 
derstood than  of  a real,  inward  righteousness,  wrought 
or  infused  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  As  that  principal 
one:  “Yea  doubtless,  and  I count  all  things  but  loss 
for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus 
my  Lord  ; that  I may  win  him,  and  be  found  in  him, 
not  having  mine  own  righteousness,  which  is  of  the 
law,  but  that  which  is  of  the  faith  of  Christ,  the  right- 
eousness which  is  of  God  by  faith.”  Where  Christ, 
whom  the  apostle  desires  to  win,  and  to  be  found  in  ; 
and  the  righteousness,  which  is  through  the  faith  of 
Christ  ; and  the  righteousness,  which  is  of  God  through 
faith, — are  no  external  imputed  righteousness,  but  the 
real  inward  righteousness  of  the  new  creature,  wrought 
by  the  Spirit  of  Christ  through  faith,  which  is  opposed 
here  to  our  own  righteousness,  and  the  righteousness 
which  is  of  the  law  ; that  is,  to  the  righteousness  of  out- 
ward works,  done  by  our  own  natural  power,  according 
to  the  letter  of  the  law,  in  our  unrenewed  state;  for  so 
the  following  words  explain  the  meaning  : “ that  I may 
know  him,  and  the  power  of  his  resurrection,  and  the 
fellowship  of  his  sufferings,  being  made  conformable  un- 
to his  death ; if  by  any  means  I might  attain  to  the  re- 
surrection of  the  dead.”  And  this  same  inward  and  real 
righteousness  is  often  elsewhere  called  Christ,  and  the 


340  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

new  man,  that  is  said  to  be  in  us,  and  which  we  are  ex- 
horted to  put  on,  not  by  conceit  or  imagination  only, 
but  by  real  conformity  to  his  nature,  and  participation 
of  his  spirit. 

And  whereas  the  magnifiers  of  free  grace  in  an  Anti- 
nomian  sense,  and  the  decriers  of  inherent  righteous- 
ness, commonly  conceive,  that  the  free  grace  of | God 
consists  in  nothing  but  either  in  the  pardon  of  sin  and 
exemption  from  punishment,  or  in  the  imputation  of  an 
external  holiness,  and  accounting  men  just  freely,  with- 
out any  condition  but  only  the  mere  believing  of  this, 
that  they  are  so  accounted  ; and  that  faith  is  no  other- 
wise considered  in  the  Gospel,  than  in  order  to  the  be- 
lieving of  this  imputation  ; and  that  our  own  works, 
when  they  are  undervalued,  comparatively  to  grace  and 
faith,  are  to  be  taken  for  all  inherent  righteousness 
and  holiness,  even  the  new  creature  itself : that  all  these 
conceptions  are  errors,  as  it  might  be  abundantly  proved 
from  sundry  other  places  of  Scripture,  so  it  may  suffi- 
ciently appear  from  this  one : “ God,  who  is  rich  in 
mercy,  for  his  great  love,  wherewith  he  loved  us,  even 
when  we  were  dead  in  sins,  hath  quickened  us  together 
with  Christ,  (by  grace  ye  are  saved,)  and  hath  raised 
us  up  together.  That,  in  the  ages  to  come,  he  might 
show  the  exceeding  riches  of  his  grace,  and  his  kind- 
ness toward  us  in  Christ  Jesus.  For,  by  grace  are 
ye  saved,  through  faith,  and  that  not  of  yourselves  ; it 
is  the  gift  of  God  : not  of  works,  lest  any  man  should 
boast.  For  we  are  his  workmanship,  created  in  Christ 
Jesus,  unto  good  works.”  For,  when  we  are  here  said 
to  be  saved  by  grace,  it  is  plain,  that  the  apostle  means 
by  saved,  inwardly  quickened  and  sanctified  : 

[to  be  saved]  (says  Grotius  well  here)  i^purgari  a vitiis: 
[to  be  cleansed  from  faults:]  which  inward  sanctification 
is  here  attributed  to  God’s  free  grace,  and  denied  to 
ourselves  and' to  works;  the  meaning  of  which  is,  that 
it  is  not  effected  by  our  own  works  (whether  of  outward 
morality,  or  legal  ceremonies),  done  by  our  natural 
power  in  the  unrenewed  states  but,  by  the  quickening 
and  enlivening  Spirit  of  Christ,  inwardly  creating  us 
anew.  And,  lastly,  faith  is  plainly  made  the  instrument 
of  this  inward  sanctification,  wrought,  not  by  our  own 
works,  but  by  the  grace  and  Spirit  of  Christ.  Whence 


fiERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH. 


341 


we  may  well  conclude,  that  the  true  object  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith,  is,  not  only  the  blood  of  Christ,  shed  upon 
the  cross,  for  the  remission  of  sin ; but,  also,  the  re- 
newing Spirit  of  Christ,  for  the  inward  conquering  and 
mortifying  of  sin,  and  for  the  quickening  or  raising  of 
us  to  a heavenly  life. 

And  I dare  be  bold  to  say,  that  the  inward  sense  of 
every  true  and  sincere-hearted  Christian,  in  this  point, 
speaks  the  same  language  with  the  Scripture.  For  a 
true  Christian,  that  has  any  thing  of  the  life  of  God  in 
him,  cannot  but  earnestly  desire  an  inward  healing  of 
his  sinful  maladies  and  distempers,  and  not  an  outward 
hiding  and  palliation  of  them  only.  He  must  needs 
passionately  long  more  and  more,  after  a new  life  and 
nature,  and  the  divine  image  more  fully  formed  in  him  ; 
insomuch,  that  if,  without  it,  he  might  be  secured  from 
the  pains  of  hell,  he  could  not  be  fully  quieted  and  sa- 
tisfied with  such  security.  It  is  not  the  effects  and  con- 
sequence of  sin  only,  the  external  punishment  due  unto 
it,  from  which  he  desires  to  be  freed  ; but  from  the  in- 
trinsical  evil  of  sin  itself,  from  the  plague  of  his  own 
heart.  As  he  often  meditates  with  comfort,  upon  that 
outward  cross,  to  which  his  Saviour’s  hands  and  feet 
were  nailed  for  his  sins;  so  he  impatiently  desires  to 
feel  the  virtue  of  that  inward  cross  of  Christ  also,  by 
which  the  world  may  be  crucified  to  him,  and  he  unto 
the  world  ; and  to  experience  the  power  of  Christ’s 
resurrection  within  him,  still  to  raise  him  further  unto 
newness  of  life.  Neither  will  he  be  more  easily  per- 
suaded to  believe,  that  his  sinful  desires,  the  malignity 
and  violence  of  which  he  feels  within  himself,  can  be 
conquered  without  him,  than  that  an  army  here,  in  Eng- 
land can  be  conquered  in  France  or  Spain.  He  is  so 
deeply  sensible  of  the  real  evil,  which  is  in  sin  itself, 
that  he  cannot  be  contented  to  have  it  only  histrionical- 
ly triunfphed  over.  And  to  fancy  himself  covered  all 
over,  with  a thin  veil  of  mere  external  imputation,  will 
afford  little  satisfactory  comfort  unto  him  that  hungers 
and  thirsts  after  righteousness,  and  is  weary  and  heavy 
laden  with  the  burden  of  sins,  and  does  not  desire  to 
have  his  inward  maladies  hid  and  covered  only,  but 
healed  and  cured.  Neither  can  he  be  willing  to  be  put 
off  till  the  hour  of  death,  for  a divorce  between  his 
29* 


34^  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

soul  and  sin ; nor  easily  persuaded,  that,  though  sin 
should  rule  and  reign  in  him  all  his  life  long,  yet  the  last 
parting  groan,  that  shall  divide  his  soul  and  body  asun- 
der, may  have  so  great  an  efficacy,  as  in  a moment  also 
to  separate  all  sin  from  his  soul. 

But,  that  we  may  not  seem  here  either  to  beat  the  air 
in  generals  and  uncertainties,  or,  by  an  indiscreet  zeal 
to  countenance  those  conceited  and  high-flown  enthusi- 
asts of  latter  times,  who,  forgetting  that  example  of 
modesty  given  us  by  the  blessed  apostle, — “Not  as 
though  I had  already  attained,  or  were  already  perfect 
— but  this  one  thing  I do  ; forgetting  those  things 
which  are  behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things 
which  are  before,  I press  toward  the  mark,” — boldly 
arrogate  to  themselves  such  an  absolute  perfection,  as 
would  make  them  not  to  stand  in  need  of  any  Saviour, 
nor  to  be  cleansed  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  which, 
accordingly,  they  allegorize  into  a mystical  sense, — we 
must,  therefore,  declare,  that  we  speak  not  here  of  in- 
herent righteousness,  and  of  a victory  over  sin,  in  a 
fegal  or  pharisaical  sense,  but  in  such  an  evangelical 
sense,  as  yet,  notwithstanding,  is  true  and  real. 

The  first  degree  of  which,  is  a principle  of  new  life, 
infused  into  the  soul  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ  through 
faith,  (which  the  apostle  calls  thei  seed  of  God,*")  inclin- 
ing it  to  love  God  and  righteousness,  as  a thing  corres- 
pondent to  its  own  nature  ; and  enabling  it  to  act  freely 
and  ingenuously  in  the  ways  of  God,  out  of  a living 
law  written  upon  the  heart,  and  to  eschew  sin  as  con- 
trary to  a vital  principle.  For  the  true  gospel-right- 
eousness, which  Christ  came  to  set  up  in  the  world, 
does  not  consist  merely  in  outward  works,  whether 
ceremonial  or  moral,  done  by  our  own  natural  power, 
in  our  unrenewed  state,  but  in  an  inward  life  and  spirit, 
wrought  by  God.  Which  those  very  philosophers 
seemed  in  a manner  to  acknowledge,  who  denied  that 
virtue  could  be  taught  by  outward  rules  and  precepts, 
like  an  art  or  trade  ; and  Aristotle  himself,  also,  when 
he  inclines  to  think  that  men’s  being  good  depends  up- 
on some  extraordinary  divine  influence  and  assistance. 
Which  I the  rather  take  notice  of,  because  some  late 


* 1 John  iii.  9. 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  343 

pretenders  to  philosophy  have  profanely  derided  this 
doctrine,  after  this  manner,  as  if  it  made  good  thoughts 
and  virtuous  dispositions  to  be  poured  and  blown  into 
men  by  God.  But  there  is  a second  degree  of  victory 
over  sin,  which  every  true  Christian  ought  not  only  to 
look  upon  as  possible,  but  also  to  endeavor  after,  and 
ceaselessly  to  pursue  ; which  is  “ such  a measure  of 
strength  in  the  inward  man,”  and  such  a degree  of  mor- 
tification or  crucifixion  of  our  sinful  lusts,  as  that  a man 
will  not  knowingly  and  deliberately  do  any  tiling,  that 
his  conscience  plainly  tells  him  is  a sin,  though  there  be 
never  so  great  temptations  to  it. 

Whether  or  no  this,  or  any  thing  further,  be  that 
evangelical  perfection,  which  was  the  mark  that  St. 
Paul  pressed  toward,  and  which  he  seems  mystically 
to  call  the  “ resurrection  from  the  dead,”  I leave  it  to 
others  to  make  a judgment  of.  But  doubtless,  they 
that  have  attained  to  such  a principle  of  new  life,  and 
such  a measure  of  inward  strength,  as  is  already  men- 
tioned, that  is,  to  the  perfection  of  unfeigned  sincerity, 
may,  notwithstanding  the  irregularities  of  the  first 
motions,  violent  assaults,  and  importunities  of  tempta- 
tions, sudden  incursions,  and  obreptions,  sins  of  mere 
ignorance  and  inadvertency,  (which  are  all  washed 
away  in  the  blood  of  Christ)  in  a true  evangelical 
sense,  be  said  to  have  attained  to  a victory  over  sin. 

Wherefore,  I demand,  in  the  next  place.  Why  it 
should  be  thought  impossible,  by  the  grace  of  the 
Gospel,  and  the  faith  of  Christ,  to  attain  to  such  a vic- 
tory over  sin  ? For  sin  owes  its  original  to  nothing 
else  but  ignorance  and  darkness:  every  wicked  man  is 
ignorant.  And,  therefore,  in  that  sense,  another  maxim 
of  the  Stoics  may  have  some  truth,  also,  that  men  sin 
against  their  will ; because,  if  they  knew  that  those 
things  were  indeed  so  hurtful  to  them,  they  would  never 
do  them.  Now,  we  all  know  how  easily  light  conquers 
darkness,  and,  upon  its  first  approach,  makes  it  fly 
before  it,  and,  like  a guilty  shade,  seek  to  hide  itself 
from  it,  by  running  round  about  the  earth.  And  cer- 
tainly, the  light  of  God,  arising  in  the  soul,  can  with 
as  much  ease  scatter  away  the  night  of  sinful  ignorance 
before  it.  For  truth  has  a cognation  with  the  soul ; and 
falsehood,  lies,  and  impostures,  are  no  more  able  to 


344  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

make  resistance  against  the  power  of  truth  breaking 
forth,  than  darkness  is  able  to  dispute  with  light. 
Wherefore,  the  entrance  in  of  light  upon  the  soul,  is 
half  a conquest  over  our  sinful  inclinations. 

Again,  though  sin  have  had  a long  and  customary 
possession  in  the  soul,  yet,  it  has  no  just  title,  much 
less  a right  of  inheritance.  For  sin  is  but  a stranger 
and  foreigner  in  the  soul,  a usurper  and  intruder  into 
the  Lord’s  inheritance.  Sin  is  no  nature,  as  Saint 
Austin  and  others  of  the  Fathers  often  inculcate,  but 
an  adventitious  and  extraneous  thing  ; and  the  true  and 
ancient  nature  of  the  soul  of  man  suffers  violence 
under  it,  and  is  oppressed  by  it.  It  is  nothing  else  but 
the  preternatural  state  of  rational  beings ; and,  there- 
fore, we  have  no  reason  to  think  it  must  needs  be  per- 
petual and  unalterable.  Is  it  a strange  thing,  that,  by 
the  hand  of  a skilful  musician,  a jarring  instrument 
should  ever  be  set  in  tune  again?  Doubtless,  if  an  in- 
strument of  music  were  a living  thing,  it  would  be  sensi- 
ble of  harmony  as  its  proper  state,  and  abhor  discord 
and  dissonancy  as  a thing  preternatural  to  it.  The  soul 
of  man  was  harmonical  as  God  at  first  made  it;  till  sin, 
disordering  the  strings  and  faculties,  put  it  out  of  tune, 
and  marred  the  music  of  it:  but,  doubtless,  that  great 
Harrnostes,  who  tunes  the  whole  world,  and  makes  all 
things  keep  their  times  and  measures,  is  able  to  set  this 
lesser  instrument  in  tune  again.  Sin  is  but  a disease 
and  dyscrasy  in  the  soul ; righteousness  is  its  health 
and  natural  complexion;  and  there  is  a propensity  in 
the  nature  of  every  thing,  to  return  to  its  proper  state, 
and  cast  off  whatever  is  heterogeneous  to  it.  And  some 
physicians  tell  us,  that  medicaments  are  but  subservient 
to  nature,  by  removing  obstructions  and  impediments  ; 
but  nature  itself,  and  the  inward  Archaeus,  released  and 
set  at  liberty,  works  the  cure.  Bodies,  when  they  are 
bent  out  of  their  place,  and  violently  forced  out  of  the 
natural  position  of  their  parts,  have  a spring  of  their 
own,  and  an  inward  strong  propension  to  return  to  their 
own  natural  posture,  wdiich  produces  that  motion  of 
restitution,  of  which  philosophers  endeavor  to  give  a 
reason.  As,  for  example  ; air  may  be  forced  into  a 
much  lesser  room,  than  that  into  w^hich  it  would  natu- 
rally expand  itself;  but,  while  it  is  under  this  violence. 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  345 

it  has  a spring,  or  strong  conatus^  to  return  to  its  pro- 
per state  (of  which  several  ingenious  observations  have 
been  lately  published  by  a learned  hand).  Now,  sin 
being  a violent  and  preternatural  state,  and  a sinner’s 
returning  to  God  and  righteousness  being  that  motion 
by  which  the  soul  is  restored  to  its  true  freedom  and 
ancient  nature, — why  should  there  not  be  such  an  elater 
or  spring  in  the  soul  (quickened  and  enlivened  by 
divine  grace),  such  a natural  conatus,  of  returning  to  its 
proper  state  again  ? Doubtless,  there  is;  and  the  Scrip- 
ture seems  sometimes  to  acknowledge  it,  and  to  call  it 
by  the  name  of  spirit,  when  it  speaks  of  our  free-acting 
in  God’s  ways,  from  an  inward  principle.  For  the 
spirit  is  not  always  to  be  taken  for  a breath  or  impulse 
from  without : but,  also,  for  an  inward  propension  of 
the  soul,  awakened  and  revived  in  it,  to  return  to  its 
proper  ^ate,  as  it  is  intellectual ; and  then,  to  act  freely 
in  that  state,  according  to  its  ancient  nature.  For,  if 
the  spirit  were  a mere  external  force  acting  upon  the 
soul,  without  the  concurrence  of  an  inward  principle, 
then,  to  be  actuated  by  the  spirit  would  be  a state  of 
violence  to  the  soul,  under  which  it  could  not  delight 
always  to  continue ; whereas  the  state  of  the  spirit  is  a 
state  of  freedom,  and  not  of  violence,  as  the  apostle 
witnesses,  when  he  calls  it  the  freedom  of  the  spirit : it 
is  the  soul’s  acting  from  an  inward  spring  and  principle 
of  its  own  intellectual  nature,  not  by  a mere  outward 
impulse,  like  a boat,  that  is  tugged  on  by  oars,  or  driven 
by  a strong  blast  of  wind.  Wherefore,  the  soul’s  re- 
turning from  sin  to  righteousness,  which  is  its  primitive 
nature,  must  needs  have  great  advantages  ; for  it  goes 
on  secundo  jlumine,  according  to  the  genuine  current 
of  its  true  intellectual  nature,  and  has,  besides,  the  as- 
sistance of  a gentle  gale  of  the  Divine  Spirit  from  with- 
out, to  help  it  forward. 

Why  should  it  be  thought  so  great  an  impossibility, 
for  men  willingly  to  do  that,  which  is  agreeable  to  the 
law  of  goodness?  Since  this  is  the  genuine  nature  of 
the  soul,  when  freed  from  mistakes  and  incumbrances, 
from  that  which  is  heterogeneous  and  adventitious,  from 
that  which  clogs  and  oppresses  it;  and  since  every  life 
and  nature  acts  freely,  according  to  its  own  propensions, 
why  should  it  seem  strange,  that  the  superior  faculties 


346  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth* 

of  the  soul  should  become  predominant,  since  they  arc 
of  a lordly  nature,  and  made  to  rule ; and  since  the 
inferior  faculties  are  of  a servile  temper,  and  made  to 
be  subject  ? Why  should  it  seem  impossible,  for  equity 
light,  and  reason,  to  be  enthroned  in  the  soul  of  man 
again,  and  there  to  command  ^and  govern  those  exorbi- 
tant affections,  which  so  lawlessly  rebel  against  them  ? 
For,  if  some  grave  commanders  and  generals  have  been 
able,  by  the  majesty  of  their  very  looks,  to  hush  and 
silence  a disorderly  and  mutinous  rout  of  soldiers, — 
certainly  reason,  re-enthroned  in  her  majestic  seat,  and 
re-invested  with  her  ancient  power  and  authority,  which 
is  natural,  and  not  usurped,  would  much  more  easily  be 
able  to  check  and  control  within  us  the  tumultuous 
rabble  of  apjJetites  and  passions. 

Doubtless,  God  has  no  other  design  upon  us,  in  reli- 
gion, and  the  Gospel  of  his  Son,  than  what  is  for  our 
good ; than  to  restore  us  to  the  rectitude  and  perfection 
of  our  beings.  Wherefore,  he  seeks  to  redeem,  and 
call  off  our  affections,  from  the  perishing  vanities  of  this 
world  ; which,  being  so  unspeakably  below  us,  debase 
and  pollute  our  spirits.  He  would  not  have  us,  there- 
fore, addict  ourselves  wholly  to  the  gratifications  of  our 
lower  faculties,  which  are  but  the  brute  in  us.  But  he 
would  have  our  best  faculties  to  be  uppermost ; the 
man,  to  rule  the  brute  ; and  that  which  is  of  God  in  us, 
to  rule  our  manly  and  rational  faculties.  He  would 
not  have  us.  Narcissus-like,  to  be  always  courting  our 
own  shadow  in  the  stream.  For,  even  according  to  the 
ancient  Democritical  philosophy,  this  whole  visible 
world  is  mere  extended  bulk,  and  has  nothing  real  in  it, 
but  atoms  or  particles  of  a different  magnitude,  diversely 
placed,  and  agitated  in  a continual  whirlpool.  But  all 
the  color,  heauty,  and  varnish,  all  that  which  charms 
and  bewitches  us,  in  external  objects,  is  nothing  but 
the  vital  sensations  and  relishes  of  our  own  souls. 
These  give  all  the  paint  and  lustre  to  those  outw^ard 
beauties  which  we  court  and  fall  in  love  wdth ; w^hich 
are,  in  themselves,  as  devoid  of  reality,  and  as  fantasti- 
cal, as  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  So  that,  this 
outward  world  is  not  unfitly  compared  to  an  enchanted 
palace  ; wdiich  seems,  indeed,  most  pleasing  and  de* 
lightful  to  our  deluded  sense,  but  which,  in  reality,  is 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  347 

all  imaginary,  a mere  prestigious  show ; those  things 
with  which  we  are  enamored,  thinking  them,  to  he 
without  us,  being  nothing  but  the  vital  energies  of  our 
own  spirits.  In  a word,  God  would  have  man  to  be  a 
living  temple,  for  himself  to  dwell  in ; and  man’s  facul- 
ties, instruments  to  be  used  and  employed  by  him : 
which  need  not  be  thought  impossible  if  that  be  true 
which  philosophy  tells  us,  that  there  is  a certain  near 
kindred  and  alliance  between  the  soul  and  God. 

Lastly,  we  must  observe,  that,  though  this  inward 
victory  over  sin  be  no  otherwise  attainable  than  by  the 
Spirit  of  Christ,  through  faith  ; and  by  a divine  opera- 
tion within  us  ; so  that,  in  a certain  sense,  we  may  be 
said  to  be  passive  recipients  : yet,  we  must  not  dream 
that  our  active  co-operation  and  concurrence,  are  not 
also  necessarily  required.  For,  as  there  is  a spirit  of 
God  in  nature,  producing  vegetables  and  minerals, 
which  human  art  and  industry  could  never  be  able  to 
effect;  a certain -nutritive  spirit  within,  as  the  poet 
sings,  which  yet,  does  not  work  absolutely,  iincondi- 
tionately,  and  omnipotently,  but  requires  certain  pre- 
parations, conditions,  and  dispositions  in  the  matter 
which  it  works  upon;  (for,  unless  the  husbandman 
plough  the  ground,  and  sow  the  seed,  the  spirit  of  God 
in  nature  will  not  give  any  increase :)  in  like  manner, 
the  Scripture  tells  us,  that  the  divine  Spirit  of  grace 
does  not  work  in  the  souls  of  men,  absolutely,  uncondi- 
tionately,  and  irresistibly  ; but  requires  in  ns  certain 
preparations,  conditions,  and  co-operations  : forasmuch, 
as  it  may  both  be  quenched,  and  stirred  up  or  excited, 
in  our  souls.  And  indeed,  unless  we  plough  up  the 
fallow-ground  of  our  hearts,  and  sow  to  ourselves  in 
righteousness,  as  the  prophet  speaks,  by  our  earnest 
endeavors,  we  cannot  expect,  that  the  divine  Spirit  of 
grace  will  shower  down  that  heavenly  increase  upon  us. 
Wherefore,  if,  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  we  would  attain 
a victory  over  sin,  we  must  endeavor  to  tight  a good 
fight,  and  run  a good  race,  and  to  “enter  in  at  the  strait 
gate;”  that  so,  overcoming,  w’e  may  receive  the  crown 
of  life.  And  thus  much  it  shall  suffice  me  to  have 
spoken,  at  this  time,  concerning  the  first  particular,  the 
victory  over  sin, 

I shall  now  proceed  to  speak  something  briefly  to  the 


348  the  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

two  other  victories  that  remain,  which  are  attainable 
also  by  Christ,  over  the  law  and  over  death. 

And  the  law  may  be  considered  two  manner  of  ways  : 
first,  as  an  outward  covenant  of  works,  which  pro- 
nounces death  and  condemnation  against  all,  who  do 
not  yield  absolute  and  entire  obedience  to  whatever  is, 
by  that  law,  commanded ; and  which  imposed  also,  with 
the  same  severity,  a multitude  of  outward  ceremonial 
observances,  which  had  no  intrinsical  goodness  in  them, 
but  kept  men  in  a state  of  bondage  and  servility.  Now, 
the  law,  in  this  sense,  as  it  is  an  outward  letter  and 
covenant  of  works,  is  already  conquered  externally  for 
us,  by  Christ’s  death  upon  the  cross.  “ Christ  hath 
redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a 
curse  for  us ; for  it  is  written.  Cursed  is  every  one  that 
hangeth  on  a tree ; that  the  blessing  of  Abraham  might 
come  on  the  Gentiles,  through  Jesus  Christ,  that  we 
might  receive  the  promise  of  the  Spirit,  through  faith.” 
And  he  has,  thereby,  freed  us  also  from  our  obligation 
to  those  commandments  which  were  not  good  ; having 
“ broken  down  the  middle  wall  of  partition,  that  was 
between  Jew  and  Gentile,  abolishing  in  his  flesh  the 
enmity,  even  the  law  of  commandments;  and  blotting 
out  the  hand-writing  of  ordinances  that  was  against  us, 
which  was  contrary  to  us,  and  taking  it  out  of  the  way, 
nailing  it  to  his  cross.” 

Secondly,  the  law  is  sometimes  also  considered  in 
Scripture,  as  an  inward  state  of  mind,  wrought  by  the 
law  and  truth  of  God  ; whether  written  outwardly  in 
the  letter  of  the  Scripture,  or  inwardly  in  the  con- 
science; prevailing  only  so  far  as  to  beget  a conviction 
of  men’s  duty,  and  of  the  wrath  of  God  against  sin  ; but 
not  enabling  them  with  inward  strength  and  power,  to 
do  what  is  commanded,  willingly,  out  of  a love  of  it. 
It  is  such  a state,  when  men  are  only  passive  to  God’s 
law,  and  unwillingly  subject  to  it,  as  an  enemy,  for  fear 
of  wrath  and  vengeance.  And  this  must  needs  be  a 
state  of  miserable  bondage  and  servility,  distraction  and 
perplexity  of  mind  ; when  men  are,  at  once,  strongly 
convinced  of  the  wrath  of  God  against  sin,  and  yet, 
under  the  power  of  their  appetites,  haling  and  drag- 
ging them  to  the  commission  of  sin.  It  is  that  state,  as 
I conceive,  which  Saint  Paul  describes  after  this  man- 


349 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH. 

ner  : “The  law  is  spiritual,  but  I am  carnal,  sold  undet 
sin  ; for  that  which  I do,  I allow  not;  bir  what  I would, 
that  do  I not;  but  what  I hate,  that  do  L”“  And  again, 
“1  see  another  law  in  my  members,  warring  against  my 
mind,  and  bringing  me  into  captivity  under  the  law  of 
sin.  0 wretched  man  that  I am  ! who  shall  deliver  me 
from  this  body  of  death?”  Now,  from  the  law  in  this 
sense,  that  is,  from  the  bondage  and  servility  of  the 
legal  state,  we  are  not  delivered,  n(»r  made  conquerors, 
by  what  Christ  did  outwardly  upon  the  cross,  as  some 
imagine  ; as  if  he  had  there  purchased  for  us  an  in- 
dulgence to  sin  without  control ; but,  by  the  inward 
working  of  his  holy  Spirit,  freeing  us  from  the  powef 
and  bondage  of  sin,  and  unbewitching  us  from  the  love 
of  it. 

Wherefore,  there  is  a double  freedom  from  this  legal 
state,  to  be  taken  notice  of ; a true  and  a false  freedom  ; 
which  I cannot  better  explain,  ihan  by  using  the  apos- 
tle’s own  similitude,  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventh 
chapteV:  “Know  ye  not,  brethren,  that  the  law  hath 
dominion  over  a man  as  long  as  he  liveth  ? [or,  rather, 
as  long  as  ^7,  that  is,  the  law,  liveth  ?]  For  the  woma?i 
which  hath  a husband,  is  bound  by  the  law  to  her  hus- 
band, so  long  as  he  liveth  ; but,  if  her  husband  be  dead, 
she  is  loosed  from  the  law  of  the  husband.  So  then,  if^ 
while  her  husband  liveth,  she  be  married  to  another 
man,  she  shall  be  called  an  adulteress;  but,  if  her  hus- 
band be  dead,  she  is  free  from  that  law  ; so  that  she  is 
no  adulteress,  though  she  be  married  to  another  man.” 
Here,  the  law  is  compared  to  a husband  ; and  one  that 
is  under  the  law,  or  in  a legal  slate,  to  a woman  that 
has  a husband.  Now,  there  are  two  ways  by  which  a 
woman  may  be  freed  from  her  husband  : the  one,  if 
she  break  loose  from  him  whilst  he  yet  lives,  contrary 
to  the  laws  of  wedlock,  and  marry  another  man  ; an 
undue  and  unlawful  freedom,  and  then  she  is  justly 
styled  an  adulteress; — another,  if  she  stay  till  her  hus- 
band be  dead,  and  then,  being  free  from  the  law  of  her 
husband,  lawfully  marries  another  man.  In  like  man- 
ner, there  are  two  ways,  by  which  men  may  be  freed 
from  the  lav|j,  as  it  is  an  inward  slate  of  bondage  and 


” Horn,  vii. 


30 


350 


THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth, 

servility ; the  first  is,  when  men,  illegally  and  unlaw- 
fully, break  loose  from  the  law,  which  is  their  husband, 
whilst  he  is  yet  alive,  and  ought  to  have  dominion  over 
them,  and  marry  themselves  to  another  husband;  which 
husband’s  name  is  carnal  liberty,  or  licentiousness,  too 
often  miscalled  in  these  latter  times  by  the  name  of 
Christian  liberty ; and  such  as  these,  may  well  be 
styled,  in  the  Scripture  language,  adulterers  and  adul- 
teresses : — but  there  is  an  »ther  freedom  from  the  law, 
which  is  a due  and  just  freedom,  when  we  do  not  make 
ourselves  free  before  the  time,  violently  breaking  loose 
from  it;  but  when  we  stay  till  the  law,  which  is  our 
husband,  is  dead,  and  the  compulsory  power  of  it  is 
taken  away,  by  the  mortification  of  our  desires  and 
affections;  and  so,  marry  another  husband,  which  is 
Christ,  or  the  Spirit  of  righteousness:  “The  law  of 
the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus,  hath  made  me  free 
from  the  law  of  sin  and  death.”® 

Wherefore,  there  are  three  general  states  of  men,  in 
order  to  God  and  religion,  of  which  we  may  here  take 
notice. 

The  first  is  the  state  of  those,  who  are  alive  to  sin, 
and  dead  to  the  law.  This  the  apostle  thus  speaks  of: 
“I  was  alive  without  the  law  once.”  These  are  they, 
whose  consciences  are  not  yet  consideral)ly  awakened 
to  any  sense  of  their  duty,  nor  to  the  discrimination  of 
good  and  evil;  who  sin  freely,  without  any  check  or 
control,  without  any  disquieting  remorse  of  conscience. 

The  second  state  is,  when  men  are  at  oiice  alive  both 
to  the  law  and  sin  ; to  the  conviction  of  the  one,  and  the 
power  and  love  of  the  other;  both  these  struggling 
together,  within  the  bowels  of  the  soul;  checking  and 
controlling  one  another.  This  is  a broken,  confounded, 
and  shattered  state  ; and  these,  in  the  apostle’s  language, 
are  said  to  be  slain  by  the  law  : “I  was  alive  without  the 
law  once;  but  when  the  commandment  came,  sin  re- 
vived, and  1 died.  And  the  commandment  w^hich  was 
ordained  to  life,  I found  to  be  unto  death.  For  sin, 
taking  occasion  by  the  commandment,  deceived  me,  and 
by  it  slew  me.”  Here  is  no  peace,  rest,  nor  comfort, 
to  be  had  in  this  state  ; men’s  souls  being  flislracted  and 


• Rom  viii.  2. 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  351 

divided,  by  an  intestine  and  civil  war,  between  the  law 
of  the  mind,  and  the  law  of  the  members,  conflicting 
with  one  another. 

The  third  slate  is,  when  men  are  dead  both  to  the  law 
and  sin,  and  are  “alive  unto  God  and  righteousness; 
the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life,  freeing  them  from  tlie  law 
of  sin  and  death.” 

In  i\\^  first  of  these  three  states,  which  is  the  most 
%vretched  and  deplorable  of  all,  we  are  sin’s  freemen; 
that  is,  free  to  commit  sin,  without  check  or  control. 

In  the  second^  we  are  b )ndmen  to  Goo  and  righteous- 
ness, and  serve  God  out  of  a principle  of  fear,  and  ac- 
cording to  an  outward  rule  only;  children  of  Hagar  the 
bondmaid,  and  of  the  letter. 

In  the  thirds  we  are  God’s  freemen  and  sons,  and 
serve  him,  in  the  newness  of  the  spirit,  out  of  a love 
to  God  and  righteousness ; children  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, and  of  Sarah  the  free  woman. 

Now,  there  are  two  mistakes  or  errors  to  be  taken 
notice  of,  which  defeat  and  disappoint  the  design  of 
Christ  in  giving  us  the  victory  over  the  law. 

The  first,  is  the  mistake  of  those,  whom  we  have 
already  mentioned  : who  seek  to  themselves  a freedom 
from  the  bondage  of  the  law^  otherwise  than  by  Christ 
and  the  Spirit  of  righteousness ; namely,  in  a way  of 
carnal  liberty  and  licentiousnesss  ; whereby,  instead  of 
being  bondmen  to  God  and  righteousness,  they  become 
perfect  freemen  to  sin  and  wickedness : a state  of  the 
most  deplorable  thraldom  in  the  world.  These  men, 
instead  of  going  forward  from  the  second  state  unto 
higher  perfection,  wheel  back  again  to  the  first.  Just, 
as  if  the  children  of  Israel,  after  they  had  been  brought 
out  of  Egypt,  and  had  travelled  a while  in  the  desert 
of  Arabia,  where  the  law  was  given, — instead  of  en- 
tering into  Canaan,  should  have  wheeled  back  into 
Egypt,  and  there,  enjoying  the  garlic,  and  onions,  and 
flesh-pots,  should  persuade  themselves  this  was  indeed 
the  true  “ land  of  promise,  flowing  with  milk  and 
honey.”  And  there  is  very  great  danger,  lest,  when 
men  have  been  tired  out,  by  wandering  a long  time  in 
the  dry  and  barren  wilderness  of  the  law,  where  they 
cannot  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  sin  as  formerly,  and  yet, 
from  their  impatience,  have  not  arrived  to  the  relish  and 


S62  THE  Christian’s  victory;  [cudworth. 

iove  of  righteousness, — lest  they  should,  at  last,  make 
more  haste  than  good  speed,  seduced  by  certain  false 
shows  of  freedom,  which  are  very  tempting  to  such 
weary  travellers,  and  which  promise  them  much  com- 
fort and  refreshment,  inviting  them  to  sit  down  under 
their  shadow.  Such  are,  a self-chosen  holiness;  cere- 
monial righteousness;  opinionative  zeal;  the  tree  of 
knowledge,  mistaken  for  the  tree  of  life  ; high-flown 
enthusiasm  and  seraphicism  ; epicurizing  philosophy; 
and  antinomian  liberty,  under  the  pretence  of  free 
grace,  and  a Gospel  spirit. 

The  second  mistake,  is  that  of  those  who  would, 
by  all  means,  persuade  themselves,  that  there  is  no 
higher  state  of  Christian  perfection  to  be  aimed  at,  or 
hoped  for,  in  this  life,  than  this  legal  state.  That  the 
good  they  would  do,  they  do  not;  the  evil  they  would 
not  do,  that  they  do  ; that  the  law  of  sin  in  their  mem- 
bers, still  leads  them  captive  from  the  law  of  their 
minds.  Now,  for  this  presumptuous  error,  their  sole 
ground  is  a novel  interpretation  of  one  paragraph  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  contrary  to  other  express  places 
of  Scripture,  and  to  the  sense  of  all  ancient  interpreters. 
And  this  opinion  they  support  with  as  much  zeal,  as  if 
it  were  a principal  part  of  the  Gospel-faith,  while,  in 
fact,  it  is  arrant  infidelity  ; as  if  it  were  no  less  than 
presumption  or  impiety,  to  expect  a living  law  written 
upon  our  hearts.  But  this,  instead  of  seeking  liberty 
from  the  bondage  of  the  law,  is  to  fall  in  love  with  our 
bonds  and  fetters  ; is  plainly  to  deny  the  victory  over 
the  law,  by  Christ  ; and  is  to  affirm,  that  the  Gospel  is 
but  the  ministration  of  a dead  and  killing  letter,  and  not 
of  the  Spirit  which  quickeneth  and  maketh  alive. 

I come  now,  in  the  third  ?ind  last  place,  to  the  victory 
over  death,  expressed  by  the  resurrection  of  the  body 
to, life  and  immortality.  This,  as  it  was  meritoriously 
procured  for  us  by  Christ’s  dying  upon  the  cross,  his 
resurrection  afterward  being  an  assured  pledge  of  the 
same  resurrection  to  us,  so  it  will  be  really  effected  at 
last,  by  the  same  Spirit  of  Christ  that  gives  us  victory 
over  sin  here.  “If  the  Spirit  of  him  that  raised  up 
Jesus  dwell  in  you,  he  that  raised  up  Christ  from  the 
dead,  shall  also  quicken  your  mortal  bodies  by  his 
Spirit,  that  dwelleth  in  you  — as  though  he  had  said^ 


SEHM.  II.l  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  353 

if  the  Spirit  of  Christ  dwell  in  you,  regenerating  and 
renewing  your  souls,  the  self-same  Spirit  shall  also 
hereafter  immortalize  your  very  bodies.  Avicen,  the 
Mahomedan  philosopher,  in  his  Almahad,  has  a conceit 
that  the  meaning  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  is 
merely  to  persuade  vulgar  people  that  though  they 
seem  to  perish  and  their  bodies  rot  in  the  grave,  when 
they  die, — yet,  they  shall  have  a real  subsistence  after 
death,  by  which  they  shall  be  made  capable,  either  of 
future  happiness  or  misery.  But,  because  the  appre- 
hensions of  the  vulgar  are  so  gross,  that  the  perma- 
nency and  immortality  of  the  soul  is  too  subtile  a notion 
for  them,  who  commonly  count  their  bodies  for  them- 
selves, and  cannot  conceive  how  they  should  have  any 
being  after  death,  unless  their  very  bodies  should  be 
raised  up  again, — therefore,  by  way  of  condescension 
to  vulgar  understandings,  the  future  permanency  and 
subsistence  of  the  soul,  in  prophetical  writings,  is  ex- 
pressed under  this  scheme  of  the  resurrection  of  the 
body,  which  yet  is  meant  xa<ra  So^av  only,  and  not 
xar’  cilX>)jsjav.  Which  conceit,  how  well  soever  it 
may  befit  a Mahomedan  philosopher,  I am  sure  it  no 
way  agrees  with  the  principles  of  Christianity;  for  the 
Scripture,  here  and  elsewhere,  assures  us,  that  the  re- 
surrection of  the  body  is  to  be  understood  plainly,  and 
without  a figure;  and  that  the  saints,  departed  this  life 
in  the  faith  and  fear  of  Christ,  shall  not  be  mere  souls 
without  bodies  to  all  eternity,  as  Avicen,  Maimonides, 
and  other  philosophers  dreamed,  but  shall  consist  of 
soul  and  body  united  together.  Which  bodies,  though, 
as  the  doctrine  of  the  Church  instructs  us,  they  shall  be 
both  specifically  and  numerically  the  same  with  what 
they  were  here, — yet,  the  Scripture  tells  us,  they  shall 
be  so  changed  and  altered,  in  respect  of  their  qualities 
and  condiiiims,  that,  in  that  sense,  they  shall  not  be  the 
same;  “Thou  fo  >1,  that  which  thou  sowest  is  not 
quickened,  except  it  die  : thf)u  sowest  not  that  body 
that  shall  be,  but  bare  grain,  it  may  chance  of  wheat, 
or  of  some  other  grain  : but  God  giveth  it  a body,  as  it 
pleaseth  him,  and  to  every  seed  his  own  body.”  The 
apostle  here  imitates  the  manner  of  the  Jews,  who,  as 
appears  from  the  Talmud, p were  wont  familiarly  to 

p See  Gemara,  in  Chetuboth,  cap.  13.  Ein  Israel,  num.  50. 

30* 


354 


THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

illustrate  the  “ resurrection  of  the  bt)dy”  by  the  simili- 
tude of  seed  sown  into  the  ground,  and  springing  up 
again.  Accordingly  he  goes  on,  It  is  sown  in  cor- 
ruption, it  is  raised  in  incorruption  ; sown  in  dishonor, 
it  is  raised  in  glory;  sown  in  weakness^  it  is  raised  in 
power;  sown  a natural  body,  it  shall  be  raised  a spirit- 
ual body.”  Which  epithet  was  used  also,  in  this 
case,  both  by  the  philosophers  and  the  Jews ; for 
Hierocles,  upon  the  Golden  Verses,  calls  them 
^vs\j(j^ocrixx,  vehicula  spiritualia,  spiritual  bodies ; and 
R.  Menachem,  from  the  ancient  cabalists,  nwa‘7n  nunn 
the  spiritual  clothing.  Lastly,  the  apostle  concludes, 
thus;  “ Now,  this  I say,  brethren,  that  flesh  and  blood 
cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God,  neither  doth  cor- 
ruption inherit  incorruption.”  For  which  cause,  he 
tells  us  elsewhere  that  they  who  do  not  die,  must,  of 
necessity,  be  changed.  And,  indeed,  if  men  should  be 
restored  after  death  to  such  gross,  foul,  and  cadaverous 
bodies,  as  these  are  here  upon  earth,  which  is  the  very 
region  of  death  and  mortality,  withont  any  change  at 
all, — what  else  wouhl  this  be,  but,  as  I^ntinus  the 
philosopher  writes  against  the  Gnostics,  syst^s(^jdak  slg- 
aXkov  LVvov,  to  be  raised  up  to  a second  sleep  ; or  to 
be  entombed  again  in  living  sepulchres?  “For,  the 
corruptible  body  presseth  down  the  soul,  and  the  earthly 
tabernacle  weigheih  down  the  mind,  that  museth  upon 
many  things.”  Wherefore,  we  must  needs  explode  that 
old  Jewish  conceit,  commonly  entertained  amongst  the 
rabbinical  writers  to  this  day,  that  the  future  resurrec- 
tion is  to  be  understood  of  such  gross  and  corruptible 
bodies  as  these  are  here  upon  earth,  to  eat,  drink, 
marry,  and  be  given  in  marriage,  and,  which  must  needs 
follow,  afterward  to  die  airain.  Nachmanides,  in  his 
Shaar  Hagtremul,  is  the  only  Jewish  au  hor  who  ven- 
tures to  dej)art  from  the  common  road  here,  and  to 
abandon  this  popular  error  of  the  Jews,  endeavoring  to 
prove,  that  the  bodies  of  the  just,  after  the  resurrection, 
shall  not  eat  and  drink,  but  be  glorified  bodies:  but 
Abravanel^i  confutes  him  with  no  other  argument  than 

9 In  Nad  a’ath  voth,  cap.  4.  This  is  the  very  same  with  the  opin- 
ion of  the  C iristnns,  i' ho  tio'd,  that  after  the  resurrection,  nien  shall 
not  eat,  drink,  n>arrv,  or  he  iriven  in  marriaire,  or  die  again,  but  cx)n- 
tinue  eternally  in  those  Uxlies,  resembling  the  heavenly  bodies;  and 
these  they  coainioiily  call  glorified  bodies. 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  355 

this ; that  this  was  the  doctrine  and  opinion  of  the 
Christians.  Let  us,  therefore,  now  consider,  how 
abundantly  God  has  provided  for  us  by  Jesus  Christ, 
in  respect  both  of  our  souls,  and  of  our  bodies  ; of  our 
souls,  in  freeing  us  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  if  we  be 
not  wanting  to  ourselves,  from  the  slavery  of  sin,  and 
from  the  bondage  of  the  law,  as  it  is  a letter  only ; of 
our  bodies,  in  that  this  corruptible  shall  put  on  incor- 
ruption, and  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality,  and 
these  vile  bodies  shall  be  made  like  unto  Christ’s  glori- 
ous body.  In  both  of  which,  the  complete  salvation  of 
man  consists;  in  the  perfection  and  happiness  both  of 
soul  and  body.  For,  though  our  salvation  consists 
chiefly  in  the  former,  in  the  victory  over  sin,  and  in  the 
renovation  of  the  mind,  yet  without  the  latter,  which  is 
the  victory  over  death,  and  the  immortalizing  of  our 
bodies,  it  would  be  a very  lame  and  imperfect  thing. 
For  righteousness  alone,  if  it  should  dwell  always  in 
such  inconvenient  houses  as  these  earthly  tabernacles 
are,  however  the  high-flown  Stoic  may  boast,  could  not 
render  our  condition  otherwise  than  troublesome,  soli- 
citous, and  calamitous.  Wherefore,  the  holy  men  in 
Scripture,  not  without  cause,  longed  for  this  future 
change;  “We  groan  within  ourselves,  waiting  for  the 
adoption,  to  wit,  the  redemption  of  our  bodies.” — “In 
this  we  groan  earnestly  desiring  to  be  clothed  upon 
with  our  house,  which  is  from  heaven.”  But  there  is 
no  obtaining  this  future  victory  over  death  and  mor-^ 
tality,  except  we  first  get  a victory  over  sin  here.  For 
this  is  that  crown  of  life,  which  Christ,  the  first-be- 
gotten from  the  dead,  will  set  Uj)on  the  heads  of  none 
but  those  who  have,  here^fought  a good  fight,  and  over- 
come. For,  as  death  proceeds  only  from  sin  and 
disobedience,  so,  the  way  to  conquer  death,  and  to- 
arrive  at  life  and  immortality,  is,  by  seeking  after  an 
inward  conquest  over  sin.  For  “righteousness  is  im- 
mortal,” and  will  immortalize  the  entertainers  of  it.*” 
Hitherto  we  have  shown,  what  the  great  things  are, 
which  we  hope  to  attain  by  Christ,  and  after  which 
we  are  to  endeavor;  namely,  to  procure  an  inward  and 

^ As  the  Chaldee  oracle  sj)eaVs  : — 

ZKrayas  irvpivov  vow, 

Kpyov  zk'  zvazfizias  Itzvarov,  Kai  cuya  aauxrzis^ 


356  THE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudwqrth^ 

real  victory  over  sin,  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  that  so, 
we  may  hereafter  attain  a victory  over  death  and  mor- 
tality. We  cannot,  now,  but  take  notice  briefly  of 
some  errors,  of  those,  who,  either  pretending  the  im- 
possibility of  this  inward  victory  over  sin,  or  else 
hypocritically  declining  the  combat,  make  up  a certain 
religion  to  themselves,  out  of  other  things,  which  are 
either  impertinent,  and  nothing  to  the  purpose,  or  else 
evil  and  noxious. . 

For,  first,  some,  as  was  intimated  before,  make  to 
themselves  a mere  fantastical  and  imaginary  religion ; 
they  conceit  that  there  is  nothing  for  them  to  do,  but 
confidently  to  believe,  that  all  is  already  done  for  them ; 
that  they  are  dearly  beloved  of  God,  without  any  con- 
ditions or  qualifications  to  make  them  lovely.  But 
such  a faith  as  this,  is  nothing  but  mere  fancy  and 
carnal  imagination,  proceeding  from  that  natural  self- 
love,  with  which  men  fondly  dote  upon  themselves,  and 
are  apt  to  tliink,  that  God  loves  them  as  fondly  and  as 
partially,  as  they  love  themselves,  tying  his  affection  ta 
their  particular  outward  perstms,  to  their  very  flesh  and 
blood:  thus  making  God  a being  like  unto  themselves, 
that  is,  wholly  actuated  by  arbitrary  self-will,  fondness, 
and  partiality ; and  perverting  the  whole  nature  and 
design  of  religion,  which  is  not  a mere  phantastry  and 
historical  show,  hut  a real  victory  over  the  real  evil  of 
sin  ; without  which,  neither  can  God  take  pleasure  in 
any  man’s  person,  nor  can  there  be  any  possibility  of 
happiness,  any  real  turning  of  the  soul  from  darkness 
unto  light,  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God. 

Again,  some  there  are,  who,  instead  of  walking  in 
the  narrow  way  which  Christ  commends,  of  subduing 
and  mortifying  our  sinful  appetites,  make  to  themselves 
certain  other  narrow  ways  of  affected  singularitVi  in 
things  which  belong  not  to  lif*<  and  godliness;  outward 
strictness  and  severities,  of  their  own  choosing  and  de- 
vising ; and  who  persuade  themselves,  that  this  is  the 
strait  gate  and  narrow  way  of  Christ,  which  leadeth 
unto  life.  Whereas,  the^e  are,  indeed,  nothing  else 
but  some  particular  paths,  and  narrow  slices,  cut  out  of 
the  broad  way.  For,  though  they  have  an  outward  and 
seeming  narrowness,  yet  they  are  so  broad  within,  that 
camels  with  their  burthens  may  easily  pass  through 


S£RM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  fHE  LAW,  AND  DEATH*  357 

them.  These,  instead  of  taking  up  Christ’s  cross 
upon  them,  make  to  themselves  certain  crosses  of  their 
own  ; and,  laying  them  upon  their  shoulders  and  car- 
rying them,  please  themselves  with  a conceit  that  they 
bear  the  cn)ss  of  Christ  ; while  in  truth  and  reality^ 
they  are  frequently  too  much  strangers  to  that  cross 
by  which  the  world  should  be  crucified  to  them,  and 
they  unto  the  world. 

Some  place  all  their  religion  in  endless  scrupulosities 
about  indifferent  things,  neglecting,  in  the  mean  time, 
the  more  weighty  matters,  both  t»f  Law  and  Gospel; 
straining  at  a gnat,  and  swallowing  a camel ; that  is, 
being  not  so  scrupulous  as  they  ought  to  be,  about  the 
substantials  of  religion,  and  a good  life.  For,  as  we 
ought  not  to  place  the  chief  of  our  religion  in  the  mere 
observance  of  outward  rites  and  ceremonies,  whilst,  in 
the  mean  lime,  we  hypocritically  neglect  the  morals 
and  substantials,  which  may  deservedly  be  branded  with 
the  name  of  superstition  : so,  we  ought  to  know,  that 
it  is  equal  superstition,  to  have  such  an  abhorrence  of 
indifferent  things,  as  to  make  it  the  main  of  our  religion 
to  abstain  from  them.  Both  of  these  argue  equal  ignor-^ 
ance  of  the  nature  of  God,  as  if  he  were  some  morose, 
humorous,  and  captious  being;  and  of  that  righteous- 
ness, in  which  the  kingdom  of  God  consists  ; as  if 
these  outward  and  indifferent  things  could  either  hallow 
or  defile  our  souls,  or  as  if  salvation  and  damnation 
depended  upon  the  mere  using  or  not  using  of  them. 
The  apostle  himself  instructs  us,  that  the  kingdom  of 
God  consists  no  more  in  uncircumcision  than  in  cir-^ 
cumcision  ; that  is,  no  more  in  not  using  outward  cere- 
monies and  indifferent  things,  than  in  using  them. 
Wherefore,  the  negative  superstition  is  equal  to  the 
positive.  And  both  of  them  alike  call  off  men’s  atten- 
tion from  the  main  objects  of  religion,  by  engaging 
them  over-much  in  small  and  little  things.  But  the 
sober  Christian,  who  neither  places  all  his  religion  in 
external  observances,  nor  yet  is  superstitiously  anti- 
ceremonial,— as  he  will  think  himself  obliged  to  have 
a due  regard  to  the  commands  of  lawful  authority,  in 
adiaphorous  things,  and  to  prefer  the  peace  and  unity 
of  the  Christian  Church,  and  the  observation  of  the 
royal  law  pf  charity,  before  the  satisfaction  of  any 


358  THE  Christian's  victory,  [cudworth. 

private  humor  or  interest, — ‘SO  he  will  be  aware  of  that 
extreme,  into  which  many  run,  of  banishing  away, 
quite  out  of  the  world,  all  the  solemnity  of  external 
worship,  the  observance  of  the  Lord’s  day,  and  the 
participation  of  the  Christian  sacraments,  under  the 
notion  of  useless  ceremonies.  To  conclude;  unless 
there  be  a due  and  timely  regard  had  to  the  commands 
of  lawful  authority,  in  indifferent  things,  and  to  order, 
peace,  and  unity  in  the  Church,  it  may  easily  be  fore- 
seen, that  the  reformed  part  of  Christendom  will  be 
brought  to  confusion,  and  at  length  to  utter  ruin  by 
crumbling  into  infinite  sects  and  divisions. 

Again,  many  mistake  the  vices  of  their  natural  com- 
plexion for  supernatural  and  divine  graces.  Some 
think  that  dull  and  stupid  melancholy,  is  Christian  mor- 
tification : others,  that  turbulent  and  fiery  zeal,  is  the 
vigor  of  the  Spirit.  Whereas,  zeal  is  one  of  those 
things,  which  Aristotle  calls  of  a middle  nature  ; neither 
goi'»d  nor  bad  in  itself,  but  which,  as  it  is  circumstanced, 
may  indifferently  become  either  virtue  or  vice.  For 
there  is  a bitter  zeal,  as  the  apostle  calls  it,  which  is 
contrary  to  all  Christian  love  and  charity ; and  which 
is  nothing  else  but  the  vices  of  acerbity,  envy,  malice, 
cruelty,  tinctured  and  gilded  over  with  a religious  show. 
And  there  may  be  also  a turbulent  and  factious  zeal, 
when  men,  under  a [)retence  of  acting  for  the  glory  of 
God,  violate  just  and  lawful  authority,  in  order  to  the 
advancement  of  their  own  private  self-interest.  Indeed, 
there  was  amongst  the  Jews  a certain  right,  called  the 
right  of  zealots  ; by  which  private  persons,  actuated 
by  a zeal  for  God,  might  do  immediate  execution  upon 
certain  malefactors,  without  expecting  the  sentence  of 
any  court  of  juiicature.  And  some  conceive,  that,  by 
this  right  of  zealots,  our  Saviour  whipped  the  buyers 
and  sellers  out  of  the  temple,  and  overturned  the  tables 
of  the  money-changers;  because  he  was  never  called 
into  question  by  the  Jews,  for  those  acts.  But  this  was 
then  a legal  and  regular  usage,  permitted,  in  some 
certain  cases,  by  the  public  laws  of  that  natii)n  ; yet  so, 
as  that  those  zealots  were  afterward  accountable  to  the 
Sanhedrim,  fi)r  what  they  did.  However,  a little  be- 
fore the  destruction  of  the  temple,  as  Josephus  tells  us, 
there  were  a crew  of  desp^ral'®  miscreants,  who,  abus- 


8ERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH*  359 

ing  this  right,  and  calling  themselves  by  the  name  of 
zealots,  made  a pretext  from  thence  to  commit  most 
villanous  actions.  And  I wish  some  had  not  too  much 
entertained  the  opinion,  that  private  persons  might 
reform  public  abuses,  whether  belonging  to  the  ecclesi- 
astical or  the  civil  polity,  without  and  against  the  consent 
of  the  supreme  magistrate,  in  a turbulent  manner,  by 
the  right  of  zealots : nay,  and  that  actions,  otherwise 
altogether  unwarrantable  in  themselves,  may  be  justi- 
fied, by  zeal  for  God,  and  good  ends.  But  God  needs 
no  man’s  zeal,  to  promote  an  imaginary  interest  of  his 
in  the  world,  by  doing  unjust  things  for  him.  “Will 
you  speak  wickedly  forGoD,  or  talk  deceitfully  for  him? 
will  you  accept  his  person  ?”  was  the  generous  expostu- 
lation of  Job  with  his  friends  ; and  he  tells  them  in 
the  following  words,  that  this  was  nothing  else,  but  “ to 
mock  God,  as  one  man  mocketh  another.” 

True  divine  zeal  is  no  corybantic  fury  ; it  is  a calm 
and  regular  heat,  guided  and  managed  by  light  and  pru- 
dence, and  carried  out  principally,  neither  for,  nor 
against,  indifierent  rites  and  unnecessary  opinions,  but 
for  those  things  which  are  immutably  good,  and  funda- 
mental to  Christianity;  always  acknowledging  a due 
subordination  to  that  authority,  civil  and  ecclesiastical, 
which  is  over  us. 

Lastly,  some  there  are,  whose  pretence  to  religion 
and  the  Spirit,  is  founded  in  nothing  else  but  a faculty  of 
rheloricating and  extemporizing  with  Zealand  fervency  ; 
which  they  take  to  be  nothing  less  than  divine  inspira- 
tion, and  that  which  the  Scripture  calls  “ praying  in  the 
Holy  Ghost,”  an  undoubted  character  of  a person 
truly  renovated.  This  is  a great  delusion,  by  which 
many  are  hindered  from  seeking  after  the  real  effects 
of  the  divine  Spirit;  idolizinor,  instead  of  it,  that  which 
is  merely  natural,  if  not  artificial  : I think  it  not  in  per- 
tinent, therefore,  here  to  speak  a little  of  it.  And  cer- 
tainly, that  which  is  frequently  attained  to,  in  the  very 
height,  by  persons  grossly  hypocritical  and  debauched, 
can  never  be  concluded  to  be  divine  inspiration,  can 
never  proceed  from  any  higher  principle^  than  mere 
natural  enthusiasm.  For  there  is  not  only  a poetical 
enthusiasm,  of  which  Plato  discourses  in  his  Ion,  but, 
though  oratory  be  a more  sober  thing,  there  is  a rheto- 


fHE  Christian’s  victory,  [cudworth. 

rical  enthusiasm  also,  which  makes  men  very  eloquent, 
afJectioiiate,  and  bewitching  in  their  language,  beyond 
what  the  power  of  any  bare  art  and  precepts  could  en» 
able  them  to  reach  ; insomuch  that  both  poets  and  ora* 
tors  have,  oftentimes,  fancied  themselves  to  be  indeed 
divinely  inspired  : as  those  known  verses  testify  : 

Est  Deus  in  nobis,  agitante  calescimus  illo ; 

And, 

Sedibus  aethereis  Sjnritus  ille  Venit. 

And,  concerning  orat()rs,  the  like  might  be  proved,  if 
the  time  would  here  permit,  by  sundry  testimonies. 
But  1 shall  here  instance  only  in  Aristides,  a famous 
orator,  who  not  only  speaks  positively  of  himself,  as 
inspired  in  his  orations,  but  affirms  the  same  also,  con- 
cerning rhetoric  in  general,  when  it  is  extraordinary, 
that  it  comes  by  immediate  inspiration,  as  oracles  and 
prophecies  do,  and  not  from  art  or  nature.  Wi)ere- 
fore,  it  is  not  at  all  to  be  wondered  at,  if,  when  men 
are  employed  in  religious  and  devotional  exercises,  the 
same  natural  enthusiasm,  (especially  having  the  ad- 
vantage of  religious  melancholy,  which  makes  men  still 
more  enthusiastical.)  should  so  wing  and  inspire  the 
fancies  of  these  religious  orators,  as  to  make  them  won- 
derfully fluent,  eloquent,  and  rapturous,  so  that  they  be- 
get strange  passions  in  their  auditors,  and  conclude 
thf^mselves  to  be  divinely  inspired.  Whereas,  they 
may,  in  fact,  have  no  more  of  divine  inspiration  in  all 
this,  than  those  poets  and  orators  before  mentioned 
had;  that  is  to  say,  they  are  no  otherwise  inspired, 
than  by  a rhetorical  or  hypocliondriaca!  enthusiasm, 
which  is  merely  natural.  But  it  is  far  from  my  inten- 
tion here  to  disparage  the  sincere  and*ardent  affections 
of  devout  souls,  naturally  and  freely  l)reathing  out  their 
earnest  desires  unto  God  in  private;  although,  perhaps, 
this  be  n(>t  without  some  kind  of  enthusiasm  also.  For 
emhusiasm,  as  well  as  zeal,  and  other  natural  things, 
may  be  well  used,  and,  being  rightly  circumstantiated 
and  subservient  to  a better  principle,  becomes  irrepre- 
hensible.  Some  have  observed,  that  no  great  work  of 
the  brain  which  l)egot  much  admiration  in  the  world, 
was  ever  achieved  without  some  kind  of  enthusiasm  ; 
and  the  same  may  be  affirmed  of  the  most  transcendently 


SERM.  II.]  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH.  361 

virtuous  and  heroical  actions.  But  then,  the  good- 
ness of  these  actions  is  never  to  be  estimated  merely 
by  the  degree  of  enthusiastic  heat  and  ardor  that  is  in 
them,  but  by  such  other  laws  and  circumstances,  as 
moralize  human  actions.  Wherefore,  my  meaning,  as 
I said  before,  is  only  this,  to  caution  men  against  that 
vulgar  and  popular  error,  of  mistaking  the  natural  and 
enthusiastical  fervor  of  their  spirits,  and  the  ebulliency 
of  their  fancy,  when  it  is  tinctured  with  religion,— and 
against  idolizing  it,  as  though  it  were  the  supernatural 
grace  of  God’s  Holy  Spirit;  to  caution  them,  in  a word, 
against  the  error,  of  looking  for  the  effect  of  God’s 
Spirit  principally  in  words  and  talk,  and  against  think- 
ing that  God  is  chiefly  glorified  with  a loud  noise,  and 
long  speeches.  For  the  true  demonstration  of  God’s 
Holy  Spirit  is  nowhere  to  be  looked  for,  but  in  life 
and  action,  or  m such  earnest  and  affectionate  breath- 
ings after  a further  participation  of  the  divine  image,  as 
are  accompanied  with  real  and  unfeigned  endeavors  to 
attain  it : this  is  the  true  praying  in  the  Holy  Ghost, 
though  there  be  no  extemporaneous  effusion  of  words. 
And,  therefore,  when  some  Corinthians  were  piified  up, 
by  reason  of  a faculty  which  they  had  of  rhetoricating 
religiously.  Saint  Paul,  like  an  apostle,  tells  them,  that 
he  would  come  amongst  them  and  “ know^  not  the 
speech  of  them  that  w^ere  puffed  up,  but  the  power. 
For  the  kingdom  of  God  consisteth  not  in  word,  but 
in  powder  and  life.”  Wherefore,  laying  aside  these, 
and  similar  childish  mistakes,  and  things  w^hich  are  lit- 
tle to  the  purpose,  let  us  seriously  apply  ourselves  to 
the  main  work  of  our  religion  : that  is,  to  mortify  and 
vanquish  our  sinful  natures,  by  the  assistance  of  God’s 
Holy  Spirit,  through  faith  in  Christ;' that  so,  being 
dead  to  sin  here,  w^e  may  live  with  God  eternally  here- 
after. 


THE  END. 


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